THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


L^S 


mwmm^ 


THE 

LAND  AND^'THE  BOOK; 


BIBLICAL  ILLUSTRATIONS  DRAWN  FROM  THE  MANNERS 

AND  CUSTOMS,  THE  SCENES  AND  SCENERY  OP 

THE  HOLY  LAND. 

By  W.  M.  THOMSON,  D.D., 

Tweuty-five  Years  a  Missionary  of  the  A.B.C.F.M.  in  Syria  and  Palestins. 

With  two  elaborate  Maps  of  Palestine,  an  accurate  Plan  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  several  hundred  Engravings  representing  the  Scenery, 
Topography,  and  Productions  of  the  Holy  Land,  and  the  Cos- 
tumes, Manners,  and  Habits  of  the  People.  Two  elegant  Large 
12mo  Volumes,  Muslin,  $3  50 ;  Half  Calf,  $5  20. 

The  Land  of  the  Bible  is  part  of  the  Divine  Revelation.  It  bears 
testimony/  essential  to  faith,  and  gives  lessons  invaluable  in  exposi- 
tion. Both  have  been  written  all  over  the  fair  face  of  Palestine, 
and  deeply  graven  there  by  the  finger  of  God  in  characters  of  living 
light.  To  collect  this  testimony  and  popularize  these  lessons  for 
the  biblical  student  of  every  age  and  class  is  the  prominent  design 
of  this  work.  For  twenty-Jive  years  the  Author  has  been  permitted 
to  read  the  Book  by  the  light  which  the  Land  sheds  upon  it ;  and 
he  now  hands  over  this  friendly  torch  to  those  who  have  not  been 
thus  favored.  In  this  attempt  the  pencil  has  been  employed  to  aid 
the  pen.  A  large  number  of  pictorial  illustrations  are  introduced, 
many  of  them  original,  and  all  giving  a  genuine  and  true  represen- 
tation of  things  in  the  actual  Holy  Land  of  the  present  day.  They 
are  not  fancy  sketches  of  imaginary  scenes  thrown  in  to  embellish 
the  page,  but  pictures  of  living  manners,  studies  of  sacred  topogra- 
phy, or  exponents  of  interesting  biblical  allusions,  which  will  add 
greatly  to  the  value  of  the  work. 

Pvhlished  hy  HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

Franklin  Square,  Neio  York, 


Habpee  &  Bbotdekb  will  send  the  above  Work  by  Mail,  postage  paid,  tO  any 
part  of  the  United  States,  on  receipt  of  the  Money. 


P"  Every  Number  of  Harper's  Magazine  contains  from  20  to  60  pagee — ani 
from  one  third  to  one  half  more  reading— than  any  other  in  the  country. 


HARPER'S  MAGAZINE. 

The  Publishers  believe  that  the  Ninenteen  Volumes  of  Haepee's 
ItlAGAziNE  now  issued  contain  a  larger  amount  of  valuable  and  at- 
tractive reading  than  will  be  found  in  any  other  periodical  of  the 
day.  The  best  Serial  Tales  of  the  foremost  Novelists  of  the  time : 
Levees'  "Maurice  Tiemay,"  Bulwer  Lttton's  "My  Novel,'* 
Dickens's  "Bleak  House"  and  "Little  Dorrit,"  Thackeeat's 
"Newcomes"  aud  "Virginians,"  have  successively  appeared  in  the 
Magazine  simultaneously  with  their  publication  in  England.  The 
best  Tales  and  Sketches  from  the  Foreign  Magazines  have  been 
carefully  selected,  and  original  contributions  have  been  furnished 
by  Chaeles  Reade,  "Wilkie  Colliss,  Mrs.  Gaskell,  Jliss  Mu- 
LOCH,  and  other  prominent  English  writers. 

The  larger  portion  of  the  Magazine  has,  however,  been  devoted 
to  articles  upon  American  topics,  furnished  by  American  writers. 
Contributions  have  been  welcomed  from  every  section  of  the  ccun- 
tr}' ;  and  in  deciding  upon  their  acceptance  the  Editors  have  aimed 
to  be  governed  solely  by  the  intrinsic  merits  of  the  articles,  irrespect- 
ive of  their  authorship.  Care  has  been  taken  that  the  Magazine 
should  never  become  the  organ  of  any  local  clique  in  literature,  or 
of  any  sectional  party  in  politics. 

^  At  no  period  since  the  commencement  of  the  Magazine  have  its 
literary  and  artistic  resources  been  more  ample  and  varied ;  and  the 
Publishers  refer  to  the  contents  of  the  Periodical  for  the  past  as  the 
best  guarantee  for  its  future  claims  upon  the  patronage  of  the  Amer« 
ican  public. 


TEEMS.— One  Copy  for  One  Year,  $3  00 ;  Two  Copies  for  One  Year,  $5  00; 
Three  or  more  Copies  for  One  Year  (each),  $2  00;  "Harper's  Magazine"  and 
"  Harper's  Weekly,"  One  Year,  $4  00.  And  an  Extra  Copy,  gratis,  for  every 
Club  of  Ten  Subsceibebs. 

ClergjTnen  and  Teachers  supplied  at  Two  Dollabb  a  year.  The  Semi-An- 
nnal  Volumes  bound  in  Cloth,  $2  50  each.  Muslin  Covers,  25  cents  each.  The 
Postage  upon  Habpek's  Magazine  must  be  paid  at  the  Office  where  it  is  received. 
The  Postage  is  Thirty-six  Cents  a  year. 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Franklin  Square,  New  York* 


THE 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAI, 


Y 


A  MEIIBER  OF  THE  HOWARD  ASSOCIATION  OF 

NEW   ORLEANS. 


Non  nobis  solurn  nati  Kumus. 


NEW    YORK; 

H  A  R  r  E  R    &    BROTHERS,     PUBLISHERS, 
FRANKLIN    BQUARB. 

1860. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  fifty-nine,  by 

Harper  &  Brothers, 


In  the  Clerk's  OfBce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


TO  FRIENDS 

TOO    NUMEROUS    TO    NAME, 

THIS    WORK 

30      iItt0CVibtb 

IN  GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE  OF  MANY  KINDNESSES 
SHOWN  TO 

THE  AUTHOR. 


mmMM 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Object  of  the  Narrative. — The  Happiness  of  the  Rich  and  Poor,  in 
Health  and  Sickness,  contrasted. — Origin  of  the  Samaritan  and  Young 
Men's  Howard  Associations. — Epidemic  of  1839. — The  Samaritans 
visit  Mobile. — Their  Welcome. — The  Virtue  of  Quinine. — Condition 
and  description  of  Patients Page  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

Necessity  of  Watchfulness  on  the  part  of  the  Nurse. — Delusions  of  the 
Dying. — The  Pains  of  Dying  exaggerated. — The  Widow  and  her 
Son 2G 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Confidence  of  the  Sick. — The  Sickness  of  a  Family. — The  Devo- 
tion of  Ina. — The  Death  of  little  Georgy 50 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Close  of  our  Labors  at  Mobile. — Illness  of  the  Members. — Pascagoula. 
— Its  Sick. — Ship  and  Tj-phoid  Fever  in  New  Orleans,  1847. — Hospi- 
tals crowded. — Liberality -of  the  Citizens  toward  the  Howard  Associ- 
tion. — A  Cholera  Case. — Physic,  Physicians,  and  Quacks 65 

CHAPTER  V. 

Pest-spots. — Treatment  of  the  poor  Sick. — Advantages  of  the  Howard 
Association. — The  Scotch  and  Irish 81 

CHAPTER  VL 

A  stubborn  Case. — The  Selfishness  of  doing  Good. — Eanes,  the  Cup- 
per.— Predestination 87 

CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Judge  not,  lest  ye  be  judged." — The  Secrecy  of  Immorality. — An  en- 
thusiastic Howard. — His  Works. — His  Sickness.— Jlis  desultory  Re- 
marks and  dving  Sentiment 98 

A2 


X  CONTE^"TS. 

CHAPTER  Vni. 

Epidemic  of  1853. — The  aggravated  Type  of  Fever. — The  Howard  As- 
sociation commences  Service. — Physicians  volunteer. — Our  Funds. — 
Assume  the  Duties  of  a  Board  of  Health. — Extraordinary  Influx  of 
Relief. — Our  Members. — Our  Duties. — St.  Philip  Street  Boarding- 
houses. — Filth  of  Premises. — Maison  de  Sante. — A  Swiss  Family. — 
Our  paid  Physicians. — Two  Doctors  destroy  each  other's  Prescrip- 
tions.— The  Patients  recover. — Increase  of  Sick. — Members  use  Cabs 
to  visit Page  120 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Runaway  restored 136 

CHAPTER  X. 

Coapd'CEil  of  Distress. — Funerals. — Burying  of  the  Dead. — Fright  at 
the  Grave-yard. — Frederika. — My  Neighbors 150 

CHAPTER  XL 

Action  of  Board  of  Health. — The  Globe  Ball-room  Infirmary. — Nurses. 
— Conveyances  of  Sick. — The  Rag-picker's  Family. — Admissions  to 
the  Infirmary 159 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Eliza . — Female  Courage. — Black  Vomit. — Recoveries.  — Italian 

Exiles 167 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  Family  from  Metz. — Admissions. — (Convalescent  Infirmary. — Little 
Billy. — A  Drive  throu=gh  the  Cemeteries  at  Mdnight 176 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  deaf  and  dumb  Printer 187 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Nurses  on  a  Frolic. — Volunteer  Nurses. — Desultory  Remarks. — Sisters 
of  Charity. — Nurses  repent. — Exposure  of  Thefts. — The  Barber.— 
Fire ! — Effect  of  a  wrong  Prescription  on  two  Patients 192 

CHAPTER  XVL 

The  Pole  and  his  Wife.— A  Case  of  Confidence 200 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Similarity  to  the  Plague. — Physician  treats  himself. — The  helpless  Fam- 
ily.— A  Cold-water  Enthusiast 207 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Italian  Restaurateur. — An  afflicted  Female. — A  Physician  and  a 
Friend Page  217 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Dead-house. — The  wrong  Corpse, — Our  Clerk. — Music  for  the 
Sick.— Frightened  to  Death.— The  Maskers 230 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Les  Gardes  Malades.— The  C.  Family.— Gamblers  and  Gambling..  239 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Inoculation  for  Yellow  Fever. — The  Clergy. — The  veteran  Chiffonier, 
— Supposed  Causes  of  Yellow  Fever, — Cecile 258 

CHAPTER  XXII, 
Mortality  at  the  Globe. — Some  of  the  Patients. — Impositions. —  The 
deserted  one 269 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Orphans  and  temporaiy  Asylums. — A  Countess 280 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Convalescent  Infirmary. — Closing  Feast  of  the  Globe  Infirmaiy. ...  290 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Disappearance    of  the   Epidemic.  —  The   last  Cases.  —  La   Ceinture 
Doree 297 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Object  of  the  Narrative. — The  Happiness  of  the  Rich  and  Poor,  in 
Heahh  and  Sickness,  contrasted. — Origin  of  the  Samaritan  and  Young 
Men's  Howard  Associations. — Epidemic  of  1839. — The  Samaritans 
visit  Mobile. — Their  Welcome. — The  Virtue  of  Quinine. — Condition 
and  description  of  Patients. 

Of  tlie  numerous  contributors  to  tTie  Howard  Associa- 
tion of  Kew  Orleans  for  the  relief  of  the  destitute  and 
sick  during  the  memorable  and  fatal  epidemic  of  1853, 
none  but  those  in  the  immediate  field  of  its  usefulness 
have  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  informed  of  the  ex- 
tent of  good  accomplished  by  their  mite  or  largesse.  I 
purpose  to  show,  in  an  unconnected  narrative,  the  rise, 
progress,  and  workings  of  that  and  other  associations, 
and  by  detailing  the  labor  of  a  member  of  one,  to  epito- 
mize, as  it  were,  the  character  of  all. 

In  the  selection  from  my  notes  of  subjects  to  intro- 
duce the  multitudinous  duties  performed,  I  have  in  sev- 
eral instances  changed  both  date  and  locality,  to  avoid 
giving  pain  to  any  recipient  of  our  charity,  and  to  mis- 
lead the  too  inquisitive.  The  narrative  makes  no  pre- 
tension to  order  or  style ;  it  is  written  con  amore^  for  the 
subject  matter  in  reminiscence,  and  currente  calamo^  as 
intervals  of  leisure  permitted.  As  the  object  of  the  au- 
thor is  chiefly  to  uphold  the  virtue  of  charity  in  its 
fullest  sense,  he  confidently  hopes  that  any  digressions 
or  desultory  remarks  which  appear  to  be  latitudinarian 
in  sentiment,  or  any  opinions  which  might  be  distorted 


u 


D>:AE,Y'6r  A  SAMAKITAN. 


into  a  construction  of  encouragement  to  vice  or  immo- 
rality, will  yield  to  a  view  of  the  whole  work  in  a  Ho- 
garthian  light.  Some  subjects  treated  of  will  doubtless 
shock  the  sensibilities  of  those  unsophisticated  in  this 
world's  misery  and  vice  ;  yet,  as  no  disease  and  no  class 
are  excluded  from  our  services  and  charities,  so  nothing 
that  concerns  hmnanity  is  deemed  by  the  author  to  be 
foreign  to  his  notice. 

Aside  from  offering  this  as  a  tribute  of  gratitude  for 
the  flattering  sympathy  which  magnetically  thrilled  the 
American  heart  from  ocean  to  ocean  of  its  continent  so 
soon  as  the  distress  was  made  known,  the  beautiful  moral 
will  ever  present  itself  to  the  reader,  who  has  made  us 
his  almoner,  that  charity  is  a  virtue  which  meets  its  own 
reward.  "  It  is  twice  blessed ;  it  blesseth  him  who  gives 
and  him  who  receives."  It  will  bring  to  mind,  too,  that 
mutual  dependence  is  a  necessity  in  man — that  it  is  self- 
23reservation — all  animate  creation,  besides,  having  the 
unfailing  assistance  of  instinct  to  guide  each  independ- 
ently through  existence. 

It  has  been  justly  said  that  the  adaptation  and  fitness 
of  matter,  organic  and  inorganic,  is  the  completest  evi- 
dence we  have  of  a  wise  overruling  Providence;  that 
nothing  is  misplaced ;  and  that  there  is  a  design  in  the 
most  insignificant  creations,  without  which  the  universe 
would  be  incomplete.  With  many  who  are  surprised 
into  gray  hairs,  the  reflection  comes  that  le  jeu  ne  vaut 
pas  la  chandelle.  Some  have  raised  a  proud  head,  cano- 
pied with  happy  earthly  illusions — they  have  sunk  to  rest 
without  the  consciousness  of  the  purpose  of  life.  Others 
plod  the  path  of  usefulness  humbly  and  perseveringly, 
without  estimating  the  virtue  of  existence  beyond  the 
fulfillment  of  necessary  duties ;  they,  too,  heedlessly — 
ay,  necessarily  heedless — glide  into  the  vortex  of  eter- 
nity, fulfilling  a  design  which  they  deem  they  are  no 
party  to,  because  they  had  no  choice  in  it.    When  bless- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAKIT3:N.  15 

ed  with  health,  an  equal  share  of  happiness  is  the  fruit 
of  every  life,  of  every  condition.  The  susceptibility  of 
enjoyment  is  finely  graduated  to  the  educated  capacity 
to  enjoy.  With  each  and  all,  the  same  passions  have 
their  play.  The  laborer,  who  toils  through  life  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  and  draws  from  the  earth  its  grateful 
essence — the  miser,  whose  joy  is  the  possession  of  dross 
which  the  spendthrift  delights  to  dissipate — the  student, 
forgetful  of  his  own  wants  in  his  Utopian  dreams  for 
the  advancement  of  others — the  seamstress  at  her  ever- 
plying  needle,  the  wealthy  merchant  or  professional,  the 
vulgar  tippler  or  the  Champagned  debauchee — ay,  and 
to  a  no  less  extent  than  any,  the  falsely  commiserated 
slave,  all  have  their  proportioned  share  of  hopes,  anx- 
ieties, and  joys,  when  health,  fancied  or  real,  tingles 
through  their  veins. 

Change  the  scene.  Place  them  all  on  the  threshold 
of  eternity,  the  pointed  victims  of  a  lingering  or  fatal 
disease,  and  mark  then  the  inequality  of  their  condition. 
To  the  rich  and  prosperous,  disease  or  dissolution  is  re- 
fined to  a  comparative  luxury.  The  studious  cares  and 
solicitude  of  friends — the  ministering  of  loved  ones  to 
soften  the  pillow  to  the  afflicted  head,  or  to  ease  the 
aching  heart — the  mind  untrammeled  in  its  reflections 
on,  and  preparations  for,  "immortal  longings"  by  gloomy 
forebodings  of  the  future  of  dear  ones  left  behind — all 
tend  to  suffuse-  the  departure  of  the  spirit  with  a  halo 
of  serene  hope,  satisfaction,  and  gratitude  to  its  Maker. 

Not  so  the  poor  and  destitute.  Kot  so !  With  joys 
equal  to  the  more  prosperous  while  in  health — without 
envy  and  repinings  at  their  lot — grateful,  too,  to  God  for 
daily  success  to  their  toil — the  closest  approximators  to 
content — to  such,  the  feeling  of  abjectness,  the  conscious- 
ness of  helplessness,  only  comes  on  them  when  disease, 
like  a  thief  in  the  night,  steals  upon  them.  Then,  with 
joy  dispelled,  anxiety  is  painful,  and  hope  becomes  sick- 


16  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ened.  The  reflections  on  a  well-spent  life,  or  the  rehg- 
iously  educated  assurance  of  a  better,  is  no  balm,  no  pal- 
liative to  the  painful  reflections  which  overpower  them, 
as  the  J  contemplate  the  cessation  of  their  usefulness,  and 
the  future  of  the  unprovided  ones  who  are  to  survive 
them.  Then  comes  the  dreadful  reality  that  they  are 
'jioor!  Long-accumulated  savings  are  soon  spent  for 
medicines.  Day  by  day  the  sum  diminishes.  The  cher- 
ished articles  of  furniture  or  ornament — their  household 
gods — are  sacrificed  to  sustain  the  life  of  their  sick,  or 
to  ward  off  the  misery  of  starvation.  The  advent  of 
such  intrusion,  not  counted  on — not  provided  for — par- 
alyzes reason,  and  strikes  terror,  with  harrowing  re- 
flections. The  maddened  brain  of  the  mother,  as  she 
soothes  the  feverish  brow  of  her  sick  or  dying  husband, 
while  children,  languishing  and  helpless,  cry  to  her  in 
burning  accents  of  hunger  or  neglect,  may  be  read  in  the 
intense  contraction  of  the  brow — picturing,  too,  her  re- 
gardlessness  of  futurity,  her  disconsolateness,  her  despair, 
and  her  desire  for  death  as  a  blessing. 

To  such  as  these  the  members  of  the  Howard  Associ- 
ation have  devoted  themselves.  They  have  been  no 
niggards  of  the  fund  placed  at  their  bestowal ;  on  the 
other  hand,  they  have  donated  large  sums  to  other  asso- 
ciations and  to  other  communities.  Every  thing  that 
could  induce  hope,  all  appliances  of  comfort  to  the  sick 
or  destitute,  were  actively  and  assiduously  studied.  Ma- 
ture seemed  to  have  endowed  some  of  the  members  with 
more  than  the  allotted  share  of  watchfulness.  Every 
success  or  benefit,  aptly  bestowed,  stimulated  them,  by 
the  pleasure  afforded,  to  increased  exertion  and  to  a 
wider  field  of  usefulness.  When  I  add  that  no  sacrifice 
of  time  or  comfort  labored  in  the  scales  of  choice,  I  do  not 
assert  it  from  motives  of  self-laudation,  or  to  be  famous 
for  a  virtue  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  to  express  the 
force  of  any  passion  where  "increase  of  appetite  grows 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  17 

by  what  it  feeds  on."  Tlieir  recompense  is  tlie  certain 
and  secret  one  of  self-satisfaction,  which  the  notice  of  the 
world  or  publicity  of  their  acts  tends  to  destroy.  As 
Goethe  justly  remarks,  "  Virtues  must  be  loved  for  their 
own  sake  or  utterly  renounced.  They  bring  no  reward 
unless  they  are  practiced,  like  a  dangerous  secret,  in  ut- 
ter privacy."  In  the  following  pages  I  shall  avoid  the 
mention  of  any  living  names,  however  important  to  the 
development  of  facts,  and  shall  say  as  little  as  possible 
to  expose  myself  to  recognition.  I  count  upon  a  con- 
jecture occasionally  unveiling  the  author,  yet,  as  no  one 
is  aware  of  my  undertaking,  and  as  I  court  concealment, 
I  trust  that  the  curious  will  not  sin  against  that  polite- 
ness, delicately  insinuated  by  Plutarch  in  his  reply  of 
the  countryman  who  was  asked  what  he  so  carefully 
concealed  in  his  covered  basket.  Quam  vides  velatam^ 
quid  mquiris  in  rem  absconditam?  Freely  anglicized, 
"Did  I  not  wish  to  conceal,  I  should  not  have  covered 
over." 

He  whose  lot  has  been  cast  in  a  latitude  unvisited  by 
a  periodical  epidemic  among  strangers,  or  where,  per- 
haps, in  a  lifetime,  disease  does  not  assume  the  aggrava- 
tion of  suffering  characteristic  of  an  epidemic,  can  have 
no  conception  of  the  earnest  anxiety  for  the  sick  which 
possesses  the  acclimated  of  New  Orleans  on  such  occa- 
sions. While  the  sympathy  of  the  former  is  apt  to  be 
chilled  at  the  prospect  of  his  own  danger,  the  conscious- 
ness of  security  in  the  latter  enables  him  to  indulge 
in  the  exercise  of  benevolence  to  the  highest  degree  of 
satisfaction. 

Until  the  year  1837,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  accli- 
mated to  direct  their  attention  more  particularly  to  the 
victims  in  their  respective  neighborhoods.  In  the  epi- 
demic of  this  year,  the  calls  for  relief  having  been  much 
increased,  owing  to  the  large  accession  to  the  population 
since  a  previous  one,  the  happy  suggestion  of  greater 


18  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

benefit  from  associations  presented  itself  to  tlie  citizens, 
whereby  the  duties  performed  would  be  more  equally 
divided,  and  the  accident  of  neglect  to  any  be  prevented. 
Hence  sprung  institutions  whose  fame,  though  epheme- 
ral as  the  objects  of  their  care  are  obscure,  yet  are  con- 
stantly active  in  their  benevolence.  Some  are  endowed 
yearly  by  the  state,  and  others  enabled  to  fulfill  their 
design  by  fairs  and  contributions.  It  has  been  no  less 
complimentary  than  flattering  that  similar  institutions 
have  sprung  up  throughout  the  country,  whose  pro- 
gramme for  efiiciency  has  been  copied  from  the  consti- 
tution and  bj^-laws  of  our  society. 

The  most  prominent  of  associations  were  the  Samar- 
itan and  the  YouNG  Men's  Howard  Society.  The 
former  was  composed  of  middle-aged  men  and  old  resi- 
dents who  had  the  greater  confidence  of  the  city  author- 
ities. Funds  were  supplied  by  the  latter  to  relieve  the 
distress  throughout  the  city.  The  number  of  Samar- 
itans did  not  exceed  thirty.  Many  of  these  were  inca- 
pable of  very  active  duty,  and  confined  themselves  to 
visiting  the  sick,  engaging  nurses  for,  and  giving  pecun- 
iary relief  to  the  poor.  They  also  supervised  a  body 
of  younger  men,  whom  they  admitted  as  assistants,  whose 
duties  comprised  those  of  the  nurse  in  its  most  extend- 
ed sense.  The  i:)liysiqiLe  of  the  latter  enabled  them  to  be 
spendthrifts  of  the  hours  allotted  to  sleep,  with  impun- 
ity to  health. 

The  other  association,  the  Young  Men^s  Howard  Society ^ 
was  chiefly  composed  of  clerks,  who  were  unwilling  to 
be  tasked  out  to  a  service  to  which  they  were  so  enthu- 
siastically disposed.  This  society  depended  for  its  out- 
lays upon  private  contributions,  and  was  the  more  active 
in  its  labor  and  appliances  of  relief.  This  assertion  is 
based  upon  the  fact  that  they  hunted  up  their  sick,  while 
the  Samaritans  contented  themselves  with  attending  to 
such  only  as  applied  for  assistance  through  friends  or 
neighbors. 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAI^.  19 

I  had  first  fallen  into  the  ranks  of  the  Samaritans  in 
the  year  1889,  as  an  assistant,  anxious  to  balance  the 
debt  of  gratitude  I  entertained  toward  others  who  had 
kindly  and  perseveringly  delivered  me  through  a  pro- 
longed attack  of  yellow  fever  in  the  previous  epidemic ; 
in  remembrance  of  which,  and  more  fully  to  designate 
the  intent  of  these  pages,  I  have  denominated  myself  a 
Samaritan^  without  pretension  or  claim  to  the  high  char- 
acter or  professions  associated  with  the  name.  To  put 
the  sincerity  of  the  assistants  to  the  test,  we  were  placed 
as  night-watchers  and  purveyors  to  the  most  destitute. 
Instead  of  being  horrified  at  such  service,  the  greater 
the  misery,  the  more  abject  the  individual,  the  more  of- 
fensive the  surroundings  or  the  duties,  the  prouder  were 
we  of  service.  As  business  engagements  did  not  re- 
quire of  us  the  attention  of  more  than  two  or  three 
hours  of  the  day,  these,  and  one  or  two  hours  after  a 
meal,  constituted  our  only  respite  from  the  sick-room. 
I  have  no  notes  of  the  extent  of  usefulness  done  by 
either  society  that  year  in  New  Orleans,  and,  upon  dil- 
igent inquiry,  I  have  failed  to  obtain  any  papers  or  min- 
utes of  proceedings,  but  retain  notes  of  every  thing  in 
connection  with  both  societies  since. 

By  the  middle  of  September,  1839,  the  epidemic  had 
run  its  allotted  course  of  severity,  which  rarely  exceeds 
sixty  days.  Assistants  had  been  daily  reporting  them- 
selves for  service  without  obtaining  a  case,  and  many 
ceased  altogether  from  attending  the  rendezvous  of  the 
Samaritans.  While  thus  hugging  exemption  from  du- 
ties that  well-nigh  overmatched  nature,  we  were  sudden- 
ly called  together  to  deliberate  on  means  to  subdue  a 
like  calamity  to  that  we  had  passed  through,  which  had 
set  in  later  at  Mobile.  The  fever  was  reported  to  be  in 
its  acme  of  virulence  there.  As  much  as  we  courted  re- 
pose, the  melancholy  picture  of  unattended  sick,  of  pros- 
trated physicians,  and  of  citizens  paralyzed  with  fear, 


20  DIARY  OF   A  SAMARITAN. 

calling  for  assistance,  chid  our  conscience  as  if  of  unfin- 
islied  duty  had  we  hesitated  to  fill  the  breach  of  their 
afiliction.  What  staggered  some  was  the  report  that 
the  disease  had  the  marked  character  of  a  pestilence, 
and  bore  equally  upon  the  acclimated  and  the  stranger. 
I  remember  distinctly,  as  of  an  occurrence  of  yesterday, 
the  meeting  which  took  place  in  our  office  in  the  base- 
ment of  the  St.  Charles  Hotel.  The  attendance  was  full. 
When  we  were  called  to  order,  over  forty  members  and 
assistants  answered  to  their  names.  There  was  a  few 
moments  only  of  suspense,  not  to  explain  the  object  of 
the  meeting,  but  for  a  suggestion  of  what  action  to  take. 
Each  man  waited  upon  the  other.  Without  preliminary 
remarks,  a  resolution  was  introduced  that  ten  members, 
accompanied  by  as  many  female  nurses,  with  a  physi- 
cian, be  at  once  dispatched  with  medical  stores  and  oth- 
er appliances  known  to  be  wanted.  Silence  gave  the 
willing  response  of  every  heart.  There  was  no  need  of 
putting  the  question.  The  only  difficulty  that  arose 
was  how  to  select  the  ten  members,  as  more  volunteered 
to  go  than  were  required.  From  the  number  who  urged 
their  claims  most  pressingly,  ten  were  drawn  by  lot,  I 
among  them.  It  was  the  work  of  that  night  and  the 
next  morning  to  make  preparations  for  our  departure. 

We  landed  at  Mobile  early  of  the  day  succeeding. 
Contrasted  with  the  bustle  and  noise  of  New  Orleans, 
Mobile  presents  a  Sunday-looking  garb  of  repose  along 
its  extended  harbor ;  but  on  that  morning  it  struck  us, 
as  the  boat  touched  the  wharf,  that  Silence  stood  sentinel 
with  Death.  Not  a  living  soul  came  forward  to  make 
the  boat's  fastenings — not  a  hackman  to  importune  us 
for  baggage.  There  was  only  heard  the  faint  surf  mur- 
murs from  a  swelling  tide,  and  an  occasional  order  from 
the  captain,  whose  voipe  seemed  to  shake  all  space  with 
its  hoarseness. 

Taking  with  us  our  personal  traps,  and  leaving  bulk- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  21 

ier  articles  to  be  sent  for,  we  scattered  along  the  streets 
in  the  direction  of  the  Mansion  House.  As  we  progress- 
ed, the  sound  of  many  footsteps  attracted  several  faces  to 
the  windows,  all  of  which  appeared  to  be  stamped  with 
the  mingled  expression  of  surprise  or  pity  for  the  igno- 
rance or  insanity  of  such  a  concourse  walking,  as  it  were, 
into  the  jaws  of  death.  "  Good  God !  massa,"  said  a 
negro  we  encountered,  "  dey  hab  Yellow  Jack  here  berry 
bad;  better  not  stay  long."  This  negro's  words  and 
other  people's  reflections  were  apparently  identical. 

The  hotel  entrance  was  invitingly  open,  but,  instead 
of  the  obsequious  or  flattering  Boniface  to  greet  the  ad- 
vent of  so  many  representatives  of  currency,  we  were 
kept  waiting,  after  our  ring  at  the  door,  full  half  an  hour, 
before  a  half-roused  darkey,  of  about  fifteen  years,  slow- 
ly approached  us  from  the  rear,  and  then,  as  if  cognizant 
of  our  wants,,  as  slowly  sauntered  back  to  look  after  his 
master.  Yery  shortly  thereafter  the  surprised  host  in- 
stalled us  in  convenient  apartments.  He  had  not  been 
informed  of  the  object  of  our  visit,  nor  did  we  inform 
him,  until  we  were  seated  at  breakfast.  We  found  him 
a  man  of  noble  impulses,  who  welcomed  us  directly  to 
the  hospitality  and  freedom  of  his  house,  while  he  de- 
tailed a  vivid  picture,  from  personal  observation,  of  the 
misery  arouncL  Our  physician,  with  several  members, 
called  upon  the  mayor  at  an  early  hour.  Had  a  comet's 
tail  suddenly  whisked  this  functionary  to  celestial  re- 
gions, he  could  not  have  shown  more  astonishment  and 
delight  than  when  we  were  before  him  to  relieve  his 
anxious  cares  for  the  population.  An  extraordinary 
meeting  of  the  few  councilmen  was  immediately  con- 
voked, and  our  services  formally  accepted.  Convey- 
ances were  ordered  to  be  at  our  service  before  the  hotel, 
and  the  expense  of  our  stay,  and  for  provisioning  the 
sick  and  destitute,  assumed  by  the  authorities.  A  phy- 
sician of  experience  had  been  dispatched  with  us  on  the 


22  DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

part  of  tlie  Young  Men's  Howard  Society.  He  was  so- 
licited to  accept  the  appointment  of  physician  to  the  City 
Hospital. 

In  a  few  hours  the  news  of  our  arrival  had  spread 
rapidly  throughout  the  city,  and  by  noon  calls  upon  us 
for  immediate  attendance  thickened  on  us.  The  city 
was  districted  off  agreeably  to  population,  and  two  mem- 
bers appointed  to  each.  As  it  was  impossible  for  our 
physician  to  visit  all  the  patients  on  notice,  we  were  re- 
quired, when  the  case  was  desperate,  or  called  for  pal- 
liatives in  its  incipient  stage,  to  apply  certain  remedial 
agents,  agreeably  to  the  condition  of  the  patient  and  the 
violence  of  the  attack,  and  to  make  a  note  of  the  symp- 
toms, or,  as  ph^'sicians  say,  a  diagnosis.  In  all  cases  we 
were  to  visit  our  patients  at  least  twice  a  day,  and,  where 
they  were  restless  or  watchful,  to  proportion  according- 
ly our  night  attendance.  "We  were  required  to  serve  the 
medicines  to  the  patients  with  our  own  hands,  and,  in 
the  absence  of  an  efficient  nurse,  to  do  every  thing  pro- 
motive of  his  comfort  or  cleanliness.  Our  physician  had 
stated  hours  to  be  seen ;  in  the  intervals  he  made  calls 
on  all  urgent  cases,  leaving,  in  our  absence,  directions 
for  farther  treatment. 

He  had  adopted,  with  the  strongest  faith  in  its  efficacy, 
the  use  of  quinine  in  his  treatment  of  the  fever.  A  phy- 
sician at  the  Charity  Hospital  in  New  Orleans  had  re- 
cently resurrected  this  once  celebrated  agent,  and  re- 
stored the  fame  of  its  charming  effects  by  his  success. 
We  were  advised  to  give  ten  to  twelve  grains  of  the 
sulp.  quin.,  if,  as  we  generally  found,  the  patient  had 
taken  a  cathartic  or  emetic,  and  the  fever  was  in  its  in- 
cipient stage.  As  rapidly  as  it  subdues  the  fever — to 
all  appearances  on  the  following  day  removing  the  symp- 
toms of  danger — it  nevertheless  is  a  treacherous  securi- 
ty unless  the  patient  be  closely  watched.  Eelapses  were 
frequent  from  its  use  long  after  convalescence  had  set 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  23 

in,  owing  to  the  prostration  it  causes  to  the  nervous  sys- 
tem. It  has  warm  advocates  and  violent  opponents. 
The  latter  argue  that  the  blood  requires  a  certain  time 
to  be  rid  of  its  poison,  be  the  agents  active  or  slow,  and 
that,  by  checking  the  effort  of  nature  to  work  it  off  in 
violent  agitation  of  the  blood,  we  invite  a  more  pre- 
carious disease. 

The  greater  part  of  our  patients  was  of  the  most  des- 
titute class.  Before  3  P.M.  I  had  visited  ten  sick,  sev- 
eral of  whom  were  in  the  advanced  stage  of  the  disease, 
and  all  too  poor  to  purchase  medicines,  much  less  pro- 
visions for  their  household.  I  hurriedly  noted  every 
thing  that  was  wanted,  and  returned  to  the  hotel,  where 
I  found  my  demand  for  provisions  anticipated.  Hav- 
ing received  proper  instructions  from  our  physician  for 
particular  cases  noted,  and  having  filled  the  seats  of  the 
carriages  with  buckets  of  soup,  loaves  of  bread,  and  cold 
meats,  we  were  driven  off  with  glad  hearts.  Our  physi- 
cian, who  encountered  us  at  several  shanties  where  we 
had  entered,  shared  our  joy  at  the  happy  countenances 
of  dirty  chubbiness  as  they  received  the  dainties  put  be- 
fore them,  and  felt  the  good  that  was  done  when  he  wit- 
nessed the  thankful  and  thoughtful  smile  of  the  sick 
mother  for  the  considerate  care  of  her  offspring.  The 
supplying  of  provisions  was  a  daily  duty,  and  punctual- 
ly attended  to  by  all  the  members.  As  the  number  of 
patients  increased  on  us,  causing  this  attention  to  en- 
gross too  much  of  our  time,  we  were  authorized  and  did 
open  accounts  with  neighboring  grocers  to  supply  a  part 
of  the  necessary  sustenance. 

On  that  evening  and  night  the  entry  of  sick  on  our 
book  amounted  to  over  forty  persons,  applications  being 
made  by  neighboring  residents  who  had  heard  of  our 
mission.  Until  after  midnight  we  did  not  again  assem- 
ble, and  then  not  for  relaxation  or  repose,  but  for  re- 
freshment.     All  of  us  passed  the  night  with  our  pa- 


2-i  DIARY   OF  A   SAMARITAN. 

tients.  Of  tlie  latter  were  two  who  had  been  given  up 
by  their  physician.  These  we  resolved  to  do  our  utmost 
for,  as  an  earnest  of  what  we  were  capable.  Both  were 
in  the  last  stage,  and  had  been  treated,  or  rather  pros- 
trated, with  the  strongest  mercurial  remedies.  To  these 
two  members  were  detailed,  who  relieved  each  other  al- 
ternately, watching  and  nursing  them  with  all  the  ap- 
pliances of  comfort,  and  succeeded  in  saving  the  one  who 
had  entered  the  first  stage  of  black  vomit. 

At  daylight  the  following  day,  each,  in  his  respective 
district,  drove  round  to  search  for  objects  of  his  care. 
Poor  people  and  destitute  sick  are  only  thus  known  of; 
for  distress  and  misery  hide  themselves  in  dark  holes 
and  obscure  corners,  as  if  sunlight  and  fresh  air  were  a 
mockery  to  them.  The  part  of  the  city  allotted  to  me 
was  mostly  suburban,  and  surrounded  the  gas-works. 
Grocery-stores  at  the  corners  appeared  to  be  the  only 
habitable  places.  In  them  I  made  inquiries,  for  such  as 
I  sought  I  thought  to  be  their  customers.  When  the 
daily  provision  of  vegetables,  bread,  meat,  or  bottle  of 
spirits  failed  to  be  sent  for,  it  was  there  the  cause  would 
be  conjectured.  In  the  course  of  that  morning  I  was  di- 
rected to  places  with  from  two  to  three  sick  in  a  room, 
none  of  whom  had  been  visited  by  a  physician.  In  some 
places  I  found  men,  women,  and  children,  the  sick  shar- 
ing the  pillow  of  the  well,  on  the  floor,  despondingly, 
and  in  some  instances  drunkenly,  waiting  their  turn  to 
be  relieved  by  death  from  a  threatened  starvation. 
Doubtless  few  of  them  knew  why  they  lived.  If  they 
could  give  utterance  to  their  sentiments,  they  would  say 
that  necessity  placed  them  here,  and  that  they  strive  to 
live  to  see  the  end  of  it.  As  I  entered  their  doors  with 
uncovered  head,  some  looked  wildly,  others  insultingly 
at  me.  When  I  told  them  that  I  came  among  them  not 
only  to  use  my  personal  efforts  to  cure  them,  but  to 
make  their  minds  easy  by  seeing  to  the  comforts  of  their 


DIABY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  25 

liousehold,  some  slied  tears  of  welcome,  while  others,  as 
if  I  were  the  city  undertaker,  grufEy  told  me  I  could  do 
nothing  for  them,  and  should  not.  The  latter,  I  have  no 
doubt,  mistrusted  the  profession  of  a  benevolence  they 
could  not  account  for.  This  suspicion  I  dissipated  by 
an  early  return  from  the  apothecary  with  medicines  and 
from  the  grocery  with  provisions.  Having  inquired 
closely  into  their  condition  and  duration  of  illness,  I  gave 
them  their  respective  doses,  enjoining  upon  them  neces- 
sary care  and  a  judicious  indulgence  in  their  drinks.  In 
all  families  I  hired  an  inmate  or  a  neighbor  to  see  that 
simple  directions  in  my  absence  were  carried  out.  These 
were  generally  to  give  the  patients  a  hot  mustard  foot- 
bath ;  to  keep  them  well  covered  to  induce  perspiration ; 
then  to  place  at  intervals  on  the  forehead  a  cloth  sat- 
urated with  cold  water.  All  the  experienced  nurses 
brought  with  us  had  been  placed  with  the  patients  of 
the  first  day.  As  I  have  often  found  those  who  make  a 
profession  of  nursing  rather  prone  to  adopt  a  treatment 
of  their  own  to  the  prejudice  of  the  physician,  I  was  not 
sorry  of  the  substitutes  I  had  made ;  and  I  consider  that 
to  the  obedience  of  the  latter  to  the  simple  instructions 
given  them  by  the  physician  and  myself  I  owe  the  suc- 
cess of  so  many  more  cures  than  my  associates.  A  few 
days  of  attendance,  and  the  constant  visits  of  the  physi- 
cian, induced  my  patients  to  lean  upon  me  confidently. 
"When  will  you  call  again,  doctor?"  was  the  invariable 
inquiry  accompanying  my  departure  as  often  in  the  day 
as  I  would  call.  Indeed,  they  looked  upon  me  as  one 
of  them,  and  as  if  all  that  was  done  for  them  had  been 
prearranged  by  themselves.  On  many  occasions,  when 
my  orders  were  not  to  the  letter  fulfilled,  my  temper  got 
the  better  of  my  reason ;  but  the  lecturing  I  gave  them, 
instead  of  creating  animadversion,  appeared  to  me  to 
have  the  effect  of  drawing  them  still  closer  to  me, 

P> 


26  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Necessity  of  Watchfulness  on  the  part  of  the  Nurse. — Dekisions  of  the 
Dpng. — The  Pains  of  Dying  exaggerated. — The  Widow  and  her  Son. 

The  yellow  fever  is  a  disease  sui  generis.  When  the 
crisis  has  been  reached  or  passed,  the  jDatient  enters  upon 
a  state  so  critical  that  what  in  other  diseases  are  trifling 
imprudences  are  here  fraught  with  most  alarming  con- 
sequences. The  cravings  of  appetite  are  so  sharp  dur- 
ing convalescence,  and  the  imagination  so  active  in  fore- 
tasting the  pleasures  which  are  to  accompany  indul- 
gence, with  a  reinvigorated,  and,  I  may  almost  say,  a  re- 
juvenated system,  that  the  severest  self-denial  on  the 
part  of  the  patient  is  put  to  the  test  in  the  spare  diet  en- 
joined. Not  only  is  it  important  to  limit  the  ration  of 
weak  chicken  or  veal  broth,  and  afterward  gradually  in- 
troduce food  to  the  capacity  of  the  invalid's  strength  for 
digestion,  but  a  close  watching  is  imperative  to  kee]3  him 
from  temptation.  The  smell  of  food,  no  less  than  the 
sight  of  it,  TNT.11  di\ide  his  desire  between  life  and  grati- 
fication. One  minute's  absence  of  the  nurse  from  the 
room  at  an  unseasonable  time  has  been  fatal  to  thou- 
sands. Convalescents  have  been  known  to  use  all  man- 
ner of  cunning  to  induce  the  nurse  to  "  wink  an  oppor- 
tunity ;"  to  beg  and  implore  as  if  their  life  was  in  the 
indulgence.  The  fatal  mouthful  has  been  sometimes  ob- 
tained so  surreptitiously  from  the  lea^dngs  of  the  nurse's 
dinner  or  lunch,  while  her  back  is  turned  for  a  minute ; 
the  cup  of  coffee  drained  of  its  contents  so  quietly ;  the 
emptied  plate  or  vessel  shoved  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
bedside  so  unsuspiciously,  that  no  conjecture  can  reach 
the  cause  of  a  sudden  relapse,  until  the  patient  confesses 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  27 

in  Ms  despair  the  manner  lie  dared  his  fate.  The  force 
of  medicine  or  palliatives  is  now  rendered  useless.  Far- 
ther treatment  is  only  torture.  We  see  the  spirit  of  him, 
whose  recovery  was  a  hope  and  a  joy,  or  a  professional 
pride,  pass  from  view  as  a  phantom  whose  course  we  can 
not  arrest.  Disappointment,  mingled  with  more  morti- 
fication than  sympathy  or  sorrow,  and  sometimes  ex- 
pressive anger,  are  exhibited  at  the  bedside  by  those 
who  have  so  fondly  and  anxiously  watched  the  patient 
for  days  and  nights ;  so  much  so,  that  I  have,  in  some 
instances,  witnessed  an  abandonment  by  friends,  who 
now  scarcely  commiserated  or  felt  regret  at  the  fatal  re- 
sult. 

An  invalid  of  yellow  fever  must  be  treated  like  a 
child.  He  must  be  kept  entirely  under  control.  It  is 
a  safe  rule  to  follow,  when  the  physician  or  nurse  is  con- 
fused by  symptoms,  to  do  for  the  patient  precisely  op- 
posite to  what  the  latter  wishes  or  what  he  does.  If  he 
is  thirsty,  a  piece  of  ice  may  safely  be  placed  at  inter- 
vals in  his  mouth,  or,  the  better  to  allay  the  heated  gums, 
inclosed  in  a  piece  of  muslin.  His  excessive  thirst  must 
be  restrained  by  spoonfuls  of  lemonade  at  long  inter- 
vals. Should  he  throw  off  his  covering,  it  will  be  found 
that  his  extremities  are  cold,  and  that  the  circulation 
must  be  equalized  by  a  warm  mustard  bath  and  addi- 
tional covering,  for  when  he  feels  hot  his  skin  is  cold, 
and  vice  versa.  He  requires  the  unremitting  aid  of  ex- 
ternal topical  applications  and  sponging.  If  he  is  dis- 
posed to  coma  vigilj  or  to  be  watchful,  invite  him  to  sleep 
by  fanning,  or  by  the  frequent  passage  of  a  cologne- 
moistened  cloth  on  the  forehead  and  temples;  if  too 
much  prone  to  sleep,  enliven  him  with  such  subjects 
only  as  will  not  create  excitement  by  inducing  too  much 
thoughtfulness.  In  a  word,  the  deceitfulness  of  symp- 
toms to  the  physician  and  patient  is  a  characteristic  feat- 
ure of  the  yellow  fever,  creating  desires  and  wishes  in 


28  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAX. 

the  patient  almost  always  antagonist  to  his  well-being. 
Even  a  few  hours  previous  to  death,  when  increased 
hemorrhage  of  the  gums  and  mortification  is  indicated 
in  the  cold  extremities,  from  the  nails  transparent  of 
coagulated  blood,  and  when  the  dent  left  upon  the  skin 
by  the  pressure  of  a  finger,  showing  its  impress  some 
time  afterward,  marks  an  unmistakable  prognosis,  the 
patient  does  not  interpret  your  sadness  or  silence  into 
despair.  For  a  while  the  eye  brightens,  the  brow  is  ex- 
pressive of  thought,  the  intellect  clear,  the  articulation 
only  indistinct ;  and  merely  complaining  of  languor,  with 
an  absence  of  all  pain,  he  can  not  realize,  when  circum- 
stances force  you  to  ask  his  dying  requests,  that  his  end 
is  near.  I  have  known  patients  to  remain  in  this  state 
for  twenty-four  hours,  but  generally  then  sustained  by 
stimulants.  The  maddening  conviction  of  dissolution 
only  flashes  upon  him  in  one  severe  convulsion.  The 
eye  then  becomes  suddenly  dimmed,  the  iris  alternately 
and  rapidly  contracting  and  dilating;  articulation  is 
hurried;  and,  as  evidence  that  all  sensation  is  givmg 
way,  the  eye  wanders  without  recognition,  the  ear  is 
closed  to  the  most  endearing  epithets,  he  responds  only 
to  the  wild  imaginings  of  a  fevered  brain,  restless  the 
while  in  every  limb.  Life  and  death  are  in  fearful  con- 
test. It  is  the  last  desperate  struggle  of  vitality.  The 
breast  heaves  with  strangulatory  efforts,  the  whole  frame 
quivers  under  muscular  excitement.  By  one  parox}- sm 
all  is  hushed,  and  nothing  but  decay  and  corruption  lies 
before  us. 

The  witness  of  such  a  scene  naturally  remarks,  "  How 
hard  he  died,"  from  the  painful  sympathy  which  the  ap- 
parent intense  suffering  creates  in  him.  In  a  majority 
of  instances,  especially  in  the  death  of  a  yellow-fever 
subject,  I  believe  it  is  a  delusion  that  the  dying  man  is 
conscious  of  any  pain.  It  is  a  noted  fact  that  the  excite- 
ment of  the  brain  from  mental  or  physical  causes,  a  dis- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  29 

turbance  to  tranquil  breathing  from  a  convulsive  effort, 
a  fainting-fit,  or  a  syncojDe,  will  paralyze  sensation.  The 
appearance  of  much  suffering  is  shown  in  the  effects  of 
all  these,  yet  the  patient,  on  recovery,  has  no  recollec- 
tion of  any.  There  is  a  point  in  pain  which  a  body  in 
health  from  a  sudden  accident  may  reach ;  beyond  that 
the  senses  are  numbed  and  do  not  sympathize.  When 
the  body  is  enfeebled  by  disease,  the  nervous  system  is 
more  likely  to  be  immediately  unstrung,  and  the  suffer- 
ing is  proportionately  less,  though  more  active  in  devel- 
opment. Muscular  irritability  in  both  cases  is  mistaken 
for  sensibihty.  It  is  consolatory  to  think  that  the  par- 
oxysms which  stifle  the  sense  of  speech,  of  hearing,  and 
of  seeing,  should  also  so  affect  the  brain  and  unsettle 
reason  that  our  friend  is  insensible  also  to  feeling.  I 
have  watched  the  bedside  for  hours  with  sympathizing 
friends  whose  anguish  was  poignant  in  the  extreme  at 
these  manifestations  of  dissolution,  accompanied  with 
the  haunting  throes  of  the  death-rattle,  and  with  them 
prayed  for  a  termination  of  this  seeming,  or  implored 
the  physician  to  smooth  the  way  of  death  by  administer- 
ing a  powerful  opiate.  It  is  a  charity  to  all  for  such 
action  on  the  part  of  the  latter,  though  it  is  not  general- 
ly adopted,  on  account  of  the  prejudice  that  "while 
there  is  breath  there  is  life,"  and  that  no  man  should  be 
hastened  from  the  earth  except  by  the  course  of  natural 
laws. 

One  morning,  being  accompanied  by  our  physician 
on  visits  to  my  patients,  he  requested  me  to  stop  before 
I^o.  —  Dauphine  Street,  to  meet  an  urgent  call  for  his 
attendance.  When  we  found  the  house  by  the  descrip- 
tion given,  we  noticed  that  the  surroundings  indicated 
the  wealth  and  comfort  of  a  tenant  who  could  not  claim 
our  attention,  as  our  mission  was  entirely  to  the  poor 
and  destitute.  The  few  minutes  we  allowed  ourselves 
to  hesitate  was  ample  time  to  attract  the  notice  of  a  serv- 


80  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ant  on  tlie  gallery,  who  liurried  to  us  to  say  that  this 
was  the  house  we  were  looking  for,  and  that  his  mistress 
had  been  anxiously  waiting  for  us. 

Intending  only  to  enter  and  make  our  excuses,  we 
alighted.  After  crossing  a  tastefully  laid  out  garden,  the 
door  was  opened  to  us,  when  we  encountered  the  lady 
of  the  house  in  the  hall.  She  greeted  us  warmly,  and 
was  about  leading  the  way  up  stairs,  when,  seeing  that 
the  doctor  held  his  position,  she  asked  if  he  would  not 
follow.  He  rephed  that  his  time  was  engrossed  with 
the  poor ;  besides,  it  was  uncourteous  in  him  to  interfere 
with  the  resident  physicians,  some  of  whom  were  yet 
practicing.  On  this  information  she  approached,  and, 
with  a  countenance  expressive  of  some  sudden  calamity, 
and  in  a  trembling  voice,  she  told  us  that  her  physician 
was  himself  taken  ill  the  day  previous,  and  that  she,  un- 
able to  obtain  another,  had  been  since  relying  upon  the 
prescriptions  of  a  neighboring  apothecary  to  save  the 
life  of  her  son.  "  So,"  said  she,  "do  not  refuse  me,  for 
I  am  poor  too,  though  able  to  pay."  The  appeal,  from 
being  expostulatory,  was  irresistibly  commanding.  We 
were  shown  to  the  second  floor.  As  we  surmounted 
the  stairway,  a  light  southern  breeze  wafted  to  us, 
through  the  opened  window,  a  rich  perfume  from  a 
Madeira  vine  which  shaded  the  upper  gallery,  while 
the  cheerful  chirping  of  some  caged  canaries  indicated 
to  us  the  studied  cares  of  home  beautifying.  Upon  en- 
tering the  sick-chamber,  every  thing,  though  indistinct 
from  obstruction  to  light  from  latticed  shutters,  com- 
pleted our  impression  that  we  were  in  the  house  of  one 
educated  to  a  chaste  taste  and  to  the  study  of  comfort. 

Br. approached  the  bed  and  lifted  the  musquito- 

bar  to  look  at  his  patient.  A  young  man  of  about 
twenty-four  years  was  lying  in  a  stupor  threatening 
congestion.  This  was  his  third  day.  With  difficulty 
he  was  aroused  sufficiently  to  be  aware  of  our  presence. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  81 

He  finally  collected  his  tlioughts  sufficiently  to  respond 
to  our  questionings.  Directions  were  left  for  immediate 
applications,  and  a  promise  given  to  stop  at  the  house 
that  evening,  or  sooner  if  sent  for.  Mrs.  L.  followed  us 
to  the  door  with  almost  servile  acknowledgments ;  and, 
as  if  fearful  of  reply,  and  wishing  to  delay  it  if  adverse 
to  her  hopes,  waited  until  we  were  descending  the  steps, 
when  she  said, 

"Doctor,  do  you  think  my  son  dangerously  ill?" 

"Always  dangerous,  madam,  when  sick  of  this  dis- 
ease ;  but  I  do  not  despair  of  him.  His  symptoms  are 
not  the  worst ;  and,  with  his  apparently  strong  constitu- 
tion, it  requires  only  close  attention  to  secure  his  recov- 
ery." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,"  was  all  she  said,  but  in  such  a 
reliant  tone  as  to  impress  us  that  the  delicate  sensitive- 
ness of  a  refined  mind  was  here  afflicted  by  an  imagin- 
ary ill  which  "forestalled  its  date  of  grief." 

Until  3  P.M.  I  was  around  among  my  patients,  busy 
in  the  purchase  of  medicines,  instructing  attendants 
and  inmates  in  the  procedure  of  external  treatment  by 
my  own  example,  mixing  and  giving  doses,  drinks, 
and  nourishment. 

On  joining  my  associates  at  the  hotel,  I  found  a  table 
had  been  spread  for  us  in  a  private  room,  well  stocked 
with  substantial  and  wines.  Each  recounted  the  in- 
crease of  labor  on  his  hands,  with  instances  of  extraordi- 
nary distress,  which  caused  our  stay  at  the  table  to  be 
as  melancholy  and  gloomy  as  at  a  funeral  feast.  Dr. 
H.,  after  listening  to  the  cases  in  charge  of -the  different 
members,  and  noting  such  as  required  his  immediate 
personal  attention,  left  by  himself  in  a  gig.  All  of  us 
followed  to  our  respective  districts. 

What  principally  operated  against  our  greater  useful- 
ness was  the  scarcity  of  cots  and  mattresses  on  sale  in 
the  city.      Families  in  indigent  or  middling  circum- 


82  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Stances,  from  necessity  or  to  economize  room,  linddle 
the  younger  members  three  to  four  in  a  bed.  It  was 
invariably  so  with  all  large  families  I  visited ;  so  that, 
when  one  child  was  sick,  it  was  j)laced  with  its  parents ; 
when  more  succumbed,  all  sorts  of  expedients  were  re- 
sorted to  by  us  to  make  them  separately  comfortable. 
The  little  parlor  was  turned  into  a  dormitory ;  carpet- 
ing, folded  as  a  substitute  for  a  mattress,  was  laid  upon 
the  floor,  on  tables,  or  on  planks  resting  on  chairs,  and  a 
chair  j)laced  beside  the  sufferer  for  the  convenience  of 
placing  his  drinks  or  medicine.  By  a  httle  exertion,  we 
succeeded  in  making  our  sick  more  comfortable  and 
better  cared  for  than  they  would  perhaps  have  been  if 
they  were  the  only  ones  ill  in  the  city,  and  dependent 
upon  their  neighbors  for  attention. 

As  our  sick  increased,  the  facility  to  obtain  female 
nurses  diminished ;  I  had,  consequently,  to  employ  male 
ones,  and  those  black.  In  no  time  of  his  life  does  a 
darkey  set  such  an  estimate  upon  his  importance  and 
dignity  as  when  intrusted  with  the  care  of  sick  "  white 
folks."  He  sees  the  white,  always  so  mindfully  his  su- 
perior by  authoritative  language  and  intellect,  now  sub- 
serviently imploring  comforts  and  indulgences,  and  de- 
pendent upon  his  watchfulness  for  recovery.  Negroes 
are  so  organized  that  they  are  capable  of  resisting  sleep 
for  successive  nights.  It  is  a  noted  fact  on  plantations, 
that  after  the  severest  labors  of  the  day,  the  slaves  sit 
round  their  fires  at  night,  awake  to  every  occasional  re- 
mark, and  are  equal  to  their  daily  labor  without  closing 
their  eyes  or  reposing.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  too,  that 
they  are  superstitiously  afraid  to  close  their  eyes  when 
any  one  is  threatened  with  death  in  their  immediate 
neighborhood.  The  extent  of  this  self-denial  is  carried 
so  far,  that  I  knew  one,  while  the  doctor  and  myself  were 
in  conversation,  who  allowed  sleep  to  steal  a  march  on 
him  in  a  standing  posture,  visible  in  an  absence  of  mind 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  S3 

or  stupor  which  required  a  shake  to  enable  him  to  re- 
cover his  thoughts,  his  eyes  the  meanwhile  open  and 
gazing  on  vacancy.  These  are  physiological  traits,  to 
be  accounted  for,  perhaps,  by  the  contraction  of  brains 
or  deficiency  of  mental  vigor,  but  which  all  know  to  be 
common  to  the  jaded  horse  and  other  animals  which 
sleep  standing  in  harness. 

At  seven  o'clock  I  had  visited  again  all  my  sick,  and 
was  occupied  until  two  or  three  hours  after  with  new 
patients. 

On  my  return  I  drove  to  the  door  of  Mrs.  L.  As  I 
was  expected,  I  passed  in  without  an  alarm  at  the  door. 
In  fact,  after  a  first  visit  I  never  disturbed  the  family 
by  arousing  the  servants  from  without,  but  merely  ap- 
prised them  of  my  presence  by  a  tap  at  the  chamber 
door.  On  this  occasion  I  saw  Mrs.  L.  sitting  in  the  par- 
lor, apparently  in  great  despondency,  for,  without  rising 
or  uttering  a  word,  she  directed  me  to  a  chair. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  said,  "  I  have  been  thinking  how  kind 
it  was  in  you  to  give  me  hope,  when  every  body  that 
has  called  has  caused  me  to  despair.  My  son  is  my  only 
link  to  earth ;  if  I  lose  him  I  too  must  die.  Indeed,  I  am 
afraid  I  am  getting  the  fever — for — I  feel — more  ex- 
hausted than  I  ever  did;  my  bones  ache;  and  I  feel 
myself  so  much  disposed  to  sleep — yet  when  I  try — ^I 
can  not.     Do  feel  my  pulse." 

The  room  being  only  lighted  by  the  oblique  rays  of 
the  hall  lamp,  it  was  too  obscure  for  me  to  discover  any 
symptoms  from  her  countenance  of  what  she  feared.  I 
took  her  hand,  and,  without  counting  three  pulsations,  I 
was  satisfied  that  her  system  was  penetrated  by  the 
poison,  indicated  on  its  advent  by  a  hot,  dry  skin. 

"You  are,"  said  I,  "madam,  certainly  debilitated,  and 
require  repose.  I  now  urge  upon  you,  if  you  would  be 
useful  to  your  son  to-morrow,  or  escape  the  dangerous 
consequence  of  neglecting  yourself,  that  you  retire  to 

B2 


34  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

bed  immediately.  In  the  mean  time,  permit  me  to  or- 
der your  servant  to  prepare  a  warm  foot-bath,  which 
will  much  facihtate  your  rest ;  shortly  I  will  return  with 
the  doctor  to  see  your  son." 

As  she  arose  to  follow  my  suggestion,  she  complained 
of  the  continued  aching  of  her  limbs  and  of  intolerable 
thirst. 

"  I  left  my  son  asleep,"  she  said,  as  we  were  passing 
out  of  the  room;  "the  prescriptions  have  been  all  fol- 
lowed.    Come  with  me  and  see  him  before  you  leave." 

Before  she  reached  the  stairway  I  saw  that  she  totter- 
ed. Divided  between  apprehension  of  alarming  her  and 
desire  to  serve  her,  I  permitted  her  to  mount  several 
steps  before  I  took  her  by  the  elbow  and  assisted  her. 
She  insisted  upon  my  entering  her  son's  chamber.  He 
was  sleej)ing  soundly.  I  thought  too  soundly,  but  with 
a  handsome  perspiration,  and  pulse  of  about  85.  I  as- 
sured her  that  he  was  doing  well,  and  would  require 
nothing  that  the  nurse  could  not  give,  and  that  she  must 
now  look  to  herself;  that,  if  there  was  necessity  for  her 
presence,  the  servant  would  call  her.  She  approached 
her  son,  lifted  the  bar,  and  throwing  it  over  her,  she 
knelt  by  the  bedside,  dropping  her  head  upon  his  out- 
stretched hand.  This  did  not  arouse  him.  She  sobbed 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  appeared  composed,  while 
I  caught  whisperings  of  prayer,  which  were  prolonged 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  Again  she  kissed  his  hand,  and 
arising,  pressed  her  lips  to  his  brow ;  then,  without  ad- 
dressing me  a  word,  entered  her  chamber  adjoining.  I 
turned  toward  the  servant,  and  by  the  glimmer  of  the 
taper  on  the  mantle  I  saw  the  big  tears  coursing  his 
cheeks,  which  spoke  volumes  for  him  and  in  me  for  the 
disconsolateness  of  the  widow.  But  I  am  not  to  be 
moved  to  tears ;  my  province  is  to  check  them.  I  sent 
her  female  servant  to  instantly  prepare  hot  water,  and 
to  mix  in  it  a  quantity  of  mustard.     I  gave  her  the  nee- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  85 

essary  directions  to  administer.  In  fear  of  inordinate 
delay,  I  went  below  and  hurried  the  preparation.  In 
the  passage  I  remained  while  she  underwent  the  foot- 
bath. Not  a  word  passed  her  lips.  After  ordering  the 
servants  to  be  watchful  in  both  rooms,  and  on  no  ac- 
count to  allow  a  visitor  to  the  house,  I  set  out  to  seek 
our  physician.  On  my  arrival  at  the  hotel  I  encounter- 
ed one  of  our  female  nurses.  The  doctor  was  not  at 
home.  Knowing  the  importance  of  immediate  attention 
to,  and  a  proper  performance  of  certain  ofhces  in  the 
management  of  this  new  case,  I  drove  the  nurse  at  once 
to  the  residence  of  Mrs.  L.  On  my  return  I  learned  she 
had  been  vomiting  considerably,  and  was  what  is  term- 
ed a  beautifully  developed  case.  I  gave  her  ten  grains 
of  sulp.  quinine,  leaving  the  nurse  to  attend  to  farther 
necessities. 

As  it  was  about  the  time  I  should  make  my  nightly 
round  of  visits,  I  set  out  in  the  direction  of  my  district. 
At  some  of  the  houses  I  found  the  doors  ajar,  the  in- 
mates careless  of  intruders,  and  perhaps  fearing  none,  so 
long  as  a  dreaded  guest  had  stalked  in ;  at  others,  loud 
knocking  had  to  be  resorted  to  to  arouse  the  wearied 
ones  within.  I  had  four  new  cases.  After  giving  foot- 
baths, applying  cataplasms,  seeing  that  the  cups  were 
replenished  with  drinks  and  placed  within  reach,  I  en- 
joined upon  all  to  keep  the  covering  well  over  them,  as 
the  night  air  was  damp  and  chilly.  All  promised  to 
obey  my  injunctions,  and,  in  return,  seemed  to  treat  me 
as  one  of  the  family,  by  boldly  expressing  their  wishes 
for  me  to  attend  to  certain  services  for  them. 

A  singular  feature  which  manifests  itself  in  this  dis- 
ease after  the  fever  is  broken  is  a  weariness,  akin  to  the 
sensation  of  sea-sickness,  which,  like  the  latter,  makes 
the  patient  indifferent  to  all  and  every  thing  around  him, 
regardless  of  the  present  and  fearless  of  the  future.  This 
is  more  apparent  in  those  aiflicted  with  the  congestive 


3Q  DIARY  OF  A  SA]^IARITAN. 

type.  Sucb.  as  these  reqnire  to  be  watclied  closely.  They 
are  too  lazy  to  stretch,  their  hand  for  drink,  how  much 
soever  they  may  want  it,  and  even  the  effort  of  rolling  a 
piece  of  ice  in  the  month  appears  to  be  done  with  labor. 

It  was  3  A.M.  when,  without  notice,  I  again  entered 
the  house  of  Mrs.  L.  The  son  was  tranquil,  but  with 
mischievous  symptoms  of  a  typhoid  character.  The 
mother  was  asleep,  suffused  in  perspiration,  and  with  a 

reduced  pulse.    Dr. had  seen  them  since  I  left,  and 

approved  of  what  I  had  done  for  her. 

As  I  have  before  stated,  we  were  organized  exclusive- 
ly for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  and  destitute  sick,  who,  in 
this  latitude,  are  chiefly  recent  immigrants,  and  unedu- 
cated. I  have  noticed  that  the  indifference  to  recovery- 
is  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  intelligence  of  the  patient.  This 
is  likely  to  be  mistaken  for  resigned  despair,  heroism,  or 
philosophy ;  but  it  is  hopelessness.  Unprovisioned  for 
such  a  calamity,  never  having  dreamed  of  the  reality, 
they  do  not  trouble  themselves  with  thinking,  but  stare 
a  future  existence  in  the  face  with  a  welcome.  To  this 
apathy  they  owe  their  deliverance  from  a  fatal  result, 
even  under  all  the  disadvantages  of  neglect,  privation, 
and  imprudence ;  while  those  of  superior  intelligence, 
whose  brains  never  cease  to  be  agitated  by  apprehen- 
sions of  the  future,  with  the  slightest  departure  from  a 
prescribed  course  fall  victims  to  their  fears.  Whenever 
I  have  perceived  an  intelligence  superior  to  the  mass — 
I  know  not  why — my  sympathies  have  been  more  en- 
listed, and  my  exertions  to  save  more  unremitting.  Life 
to  him  has  certain  joys  which  gold,  can  not  purchase, 
and  which  the  dark  future  does  not  promise  to  his  sense. 
The  enjoyment  of  distinction,  and  to  make  a  name  for 
himself,  is  strong  in  his  many  desires  to  cling  to  life. 
The  man  of  equal  industry,  but  without  such  incentives 
to  live  for,  is  readier  to  bow  to  the  will  of  his  Maker. 
The  former  is  not  worldly  selfish  ;  he  desires  life  for  its 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAliT.  87 

usefulness  to  others,  not  for  parade.  The  latter  frequent- 
ly desires  death  for  himself  and  his  liy^e  household,  that 
the  J  may  participate  in  the  joys  of  a  futurity  which  they 
have  been  taught  they  will  partake  of  as  a  reward  for 
virtue.  With  a  healthier  organization  than  the  former, 
his  disease  is  more  manageable,  because  reflections  which, 
ghost-like,  actively  flit  before  the  former,  do  not  shut 
out  from  him  the  sweet  and  indispensable  restorative, 
sleep.  It  has  been  our  invariable  practice  to  dispossess 
the  mind  of  the  patient  of  apprehensions  of  death.  Our 
countenances,  as  is  the  physician's,  are  schooled  to  conceal 
anxiety  and  doubt.  We  talk  over  the  morrow  or  the 
future  as  if  it  were  a  certainty.  We  promise  a  stronger 
nourishment,  a  social  julep  at  our  wonted  resort,  a  ride 
in  the  country,  a  visit  from  their  shut-out  friends,  and 
sometimes  we  lose  ourselves  in  irreverence  by  perpetrat- 
ing a  joke  on  their  condition  or  by  the  relation  of  an 
anecdote.  It  is  a  hard  service  to  inure  one's  self  to,  es- 
pecially when  adopted  toward  almost  hopeless  cases ; 
yet,  after  witnessing  its  ef6.cacy  in  the  cheerfulness  and 
hope  it  induces,  we  continue  to  practice  it. 

The  ignorant  poor  are  not  so  much  consoled  by  words 
as  by  a  freedom  of  thought  of  how  or  where  they  are  to 
be  supplied  with  relief  and  sustenance ;  satisfied  on  this 
point,  they  are  resigned  to  whatever  fate  awaits  them. 

I  reached  the  hotel  shortly  after  leaving  Mrs.  L., 
where  I  found  six  or  eight  of  my  associates.  They  were 
awaiting  a  repast  at  that  late  hour,  which  was  in  prepa- 
ration for  them.  At  the  table  we  recounted  the  day's 
adventures.  Our  work  was  progressing  famously.  It 
appears  that  our  fearlessness  in  visiting  the  sick  and  with 
impunity,  dispelled  the  prevalent  terror  as  to  the  pesti- 
lential character  of  the  epidemic,  and,  from  our  example, 
the  young  men  of  Mobile  formed  a  society  for  similar 
duties  as  ours,  calling  themselves  the  "  Can't  Get  Away 
Club ;"  an  institution  which  continues  to  be  the  pride, 


.•3  /^ 


38  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

and  a  feature  of  Mobile,  from  the  incalculable  benefits 
rendered.  m 

A  clergyman  who  stood  high  in  the  regards  of  the 
citizens,  and  who  had  solicited,  through  the  mayor,  the 
attendance  of  our  physician  and  one  of  our  nurses,  was 
this  day  pronounced  convalescent. 

On  the  day  following  the  attack  of  Mrs.  L.,  which 
was  the  fourth  day  of  her  son's  illness,  I  was  accom- 
panied on  my  early  visit  by  the  doctor,  who  informed 
me  that  he  had  no  hopes  of  the  latter,  as  the  symptoms 
were  encephalic  and  complicated.  He  was  repeatedly 
calling  for  his  mother  as  imploringly  as  a  child.  The 
attendant  told  us  it  had  been  thus  for  several  hours,  and 
that  the  distracting  sounds  kept  her  constantly  restless 
and  excited  by  his  frequent  cries  of  ''Why  don't  you 
answer  me,  mother?"  We  were  also  informed  that, 
upon  his  noticing  the  door  between  the  apartments  to 
be  closed,  and  his  order  to  open  it  not  being  obeyed, 
he  had  partly  risen  from  the  bed,  and  was  with  difficulty 
held  therein,  until  his  request  had  been  complied  with. 
We  expostulated  with  him  on  his  conduct,  telling  him 
of  the  danger  to  his  mother  from  constant  interruptions 
to  repose ;  and  we  threatened  that,  unless  he  checked 
himself,  we  would  remove  her  to  another  apartment, 
out  of  reach  of  his  voice.  This  stilled  him  for  the 
nonce. 

The  patients  were  more  closely  examined.  The  stom- 
ach of  the  son  was  extremely  irritable,  a  slight  pressure 
thereon  causing  acute  pain.  His  head  was  hot,  his  skin 
cold  and  clammy.  His  strength  was  fast  wasting.  The 
doctor  ordered  apphances  for  relief,  and  gave  him  a 
soothing  potion.  While  I  was  preparing  and  adminis- 
tered the  prescriptions,  the  doctor  remained  in  the  room. 
Just  as  I  had  finished,  the  patient  commenced  to  toss 
himself  from  side  to  side,  and  exclaimed,  "Jack!  har- 
ness the  mare  right  off,  as  I  must  be  at  the  Pavilion  in 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  89 

fifteen  minutes,"  followed  by  other  expressions  referring 
to  liis  daily  habits.  Delirium  or  fliglitiness  at  that  pe- 
riod of  his  sickness  was  an  unmistakable  avant  courier 
of  approaching  dissolution. 

Having  closed  the  door  between  the  rooms,  we  enter- 
ed the  apartment  of  the  mother.  The  head  of  the  bed 
intervened,  concealing  our  entrance  from  her  view.  As 
we  stole  to  the  bedside,  so  as  not  to  disturb  her  repose, 
we  surprised  her  with  her  hands  folded  in  prayerful  po- 
sition on  her  breast,  as  she  murmured  forth,  "  My  poor 
son !  may  God  bless  and  save  you !" 

When  she  recognized  us,  the  doctor  congratulated  her 
upon  the  favorable  symptoms — that  her  pulse  was  nat- 
ural, and,  having  passed  the  first  danger,  her  future  safe- 
ty was  in  her  own  keeping. 

"  A  little  patience,  madam,"  he  said,  "  a  little  self-de- 
nial in  the  gratification  of  your  appetite  for  food  or 
drinks,  a  quiet  mind,  and  you  will  be  well  enough  in  a 
few  days  to  sit  beside  your  son." 

Is  such  language  a  mockery  of  truth  when  its  heal- 
ing influence  is  certain  ? 

"  Then  he  is  getting  better,  doctor?"  she  rejoined. 

"Doing  well — very  well,  madam." 

"  Thank  God !"  she  responded,  and  lay  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  tester  of  the  bed,  abstracted  in  thoughts 
perhaps  of  gratitude  for  the  realization  of  her  wishes. 
We  never  before  had  an  opportunity  of  closely  reading 
the  character  of  the  face  before  us.  The  features  were 
amiable  in  their  traits.  Her  large  and  prominent  blue 
eyes  were  such  as  pictured  ideality.  Her  forehead,  un- 
rufiled  by  the  lines  of  a  severe  or  anxious  existence,  was 
gracefully  arched,  and  stamped  with  intellect,  while  the 
mouth  and  chin  developed  a  sweetness  of  disposition, 
which,  as  the  possessor  grows  older,  is  the  more  distinct- 
ly expressive.  When  she  spoke  her  sentiments  were 
imaged  in  the  play  of  features.     In  a  few  words,  her 


40  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

face  was  a  devotional  one,  such  as  is  represented  by  tlie 
portrait  of  St.  Cecilia. 

At  10  o'clock  that  night  I  was  again  present.  I  en- 
countered the  servant  on  the  step,  who  told  me  he  was 
"just  going  for  me;"  that  his  master  was  out  of  his 
senses  and  unmanageable,  calling  again  loudly  for  his 
mother,  and  striving  to  get  from  the  bed.  The  nurse 
for  the  mother  met  me  at  the  door  with  the  remark  that 
it  was  impossible  for  her  patient  to  recover  so  long  as 
she  heard  the  moans  and  calls  of  her  son.  I  approach- 
ed the  bedside  of  the  latter.  By  the  light  of  a  candle  I 
caught  sight  of  his  eyes  protruding  from  their  sockets, 
wild  and  bloody  in  their  gaze  as  is  that  of  an  infuriated 
tiger.  I  knew  that  it  does  not  well  to  provoke  a  thought 
in  a  patient  such  as  this ;  so  I  was  silent ;  but  on  hand- 
ing him  a  lemonade,  which  he  fancied  more  than  any 
thing  else,  he  seized  with  sudden  force  and  strength  the 
hand  which  clasped  the  glass,  as  if  afraid  I  should  take 
it  away  before  he  had  finished  the  draught.  Wonder- 
ing at  this,  I  asked  if  drink  had  not  been  freely  given  to 
him.  I  was  answered  that  he  refused,  since  my  absence, 
to  take  any,  but  would  occasionally  allow  pieces  of  ice 
to  be  put  in  his  mouth. 

Yellow -fever  patients  are  sometimes  troubled  with 
the  suspicion — and  very  difficult  to  dissipate — that  a 
nurse  or  attendant,  or  even  a  friend,  has  a  design  upon 
their  lives.  They  thus  stubbornly  refuse,  without  a  rea- 
son, kind  of&ces  shown  them.  In  jSTew  Orleans  it  was 
the  custom  among  clerks  who  occupied  diamhres  garnies^ 
when  conscious  of  approaching  death  from  yellow  fever 
or  cholera,  to  make  partition  of  their  effects  among  their 
friends  and  distant  relatives.  As  they  commonly  lived 
up  to  their  salaries,  the  doctors  and  nurses  could  not  be 
promised  to  be  paid  in  cash  unless  they  were  cured,  so 
that  their  bills  were  engaged  to  be  paid  in  kind.  The 
nurse,  for  instance,  to  have  the  watch,  and  tlic  physician 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  41 

and  "undertaker  to  be  paid  from  the  sale  of  clothing, 
ornaments,  or  books.  It  can  readily  be  imagined,  under 
such  circumstances,  that  when  the  effects  left  were  val- 
uable, a  suspicion  should  arise  in  a  patient  that  there 
was  a  designing  interest  in  his  death,  as  is  unjustly  moot- 
ed on  the  death  of  a  rich  man,  from  the  physician  gen- 
erally charging  his  estate  five  times  more  than  if  a  cure 
had  been  effected ;  but  I  can  not  conceive  any  cause  for 
the  suspicion,  or  for  the  conduct  of  the  widow's  son, 
especially  in  preferring  the  ministering  of  a  stranger  to 
that  of  his  own  servant. 

While  yet  watching  my  patient  I  noticed  his  hand 
extended  toward  me,  which  I  pressed.  Then,  gazing  on 
me,  he  addressed  me : 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,  don't  leave  me ;  there  have  been 
robbers  in  this  room,  and  they  have  been  giving  me  fire ' 
to  drink.  See!  they  are  now  preparing  to —  See!  there 
is  one — keep  him  off — oh !  look  at  him !  See  !  see ! 
see !"  and  he  pointed  toward  his  faithful  servant,  whose 
outline  could  be  scarcely  distinguished  by  him  through 
the  musquito  bar. 

With  an  impressive  earnestness,  the  affected  negro  re- 
plied, 

"  This  is  me,  massa — I  ain't  no  robber." 

I  saturated  a  cloth  in  ice  water,  which  he  let  me  place 
upon  his  forehead  for  a  few  minutes,  and  with  a  wet  hand- 
kerchief, sprinkled  with  cologne,  passed  over  his  face 
and  neck,  I  soothed  him  and  calmed  his  fears.  The 
cataplasms  gave  him  uneasiness  ;  he  pointed  significant- 
ly to  them  to  be  taken  off.  The  bedclothes  were  now 
arranged  around  him.  A  freshly-bolstered  pillow  being 
in  readiness  to  put  under  his  head,  I  raised  him  by  lean- 
ing over  him,  and  placing  his  clasped  hands  around  my 
neck.  Every  thing  was  done  to  invite  quiet  and  repose, 
and  for  a  time  promised  well.  He  motioned  for  the 
candle,  and,  as  I  saw  that  he  was  not  disposed  for  sleep,  I 


42  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

took  it  from  tlie  hearth  and  placed  it  on  the  mantle- 
piece.  He  became  busied  in  his  own  thoughts.  At 
length  he  remarked, 

"Didn't  you  hear  my  mother  vomit  just  now?" 
"  No,"  I  replied ;  and  I  really  did  not,  and  thought  it 
imaginary  on  his  part. 

" I  did,"  said  he ;  "  why  don't  you  go  and  see  her?" 
I  entered  by  the  way  of  the  corridor,  and  shut  the 
door  quickly  after  me.  I  found  his  assertion  too  true. 
She  had  just  vomited  an  inordinate  quantity  of  liquid. 
I  did  nothing  to  check  a  farther  disposition  to  it,  as  she 
felt  no  pain ;  indeed,  I  would  not  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  her  case,  and  awaited  the  physician.  She  ac- 
knowledged to  me  that  she  could  not  resist  the  indul- 
gence, and  had  helped  herself  to  more  than  the  nurse 
had  allowed. 

I  was  now  invited  by  a  servant  to  a  repast  that  had 
been  prepared  for  me  in  the  parlor.  The  dishes  were 
appetizing,  but  continued  watchfulness  and  irregularity 
of  habit  had  made  me  dyspeptic,  and  the  main  suste- 
nance I  sought  I  found  in  stimulants.  I  threw  myself 
on  the  sofa,  waiting  to  be  disturbed  by  the  least  noise 
overhead.  Every  twenty  minutes  I  crept  uj)  stairs : 
both  patients  remained  quiet. 

As  I  smoked  a  cigar,  for  the  twofold  purpose  of  grati- 
fication and  relief  from  musquitoes,  I  had  abundant  leis- 
ure to  note  the  admirable  taste  dis]3layed  in  the  furnish- 
ing of  the  rooms.  That  charm  of  home  attraction  and 
dispeller  of  ennui,  the  acquired  taste  for  indulgence  in 
which  is  a  blessing,  a  well-selected  library,  prominently 
met  the  eye  in  the  Gothic  structure  of  the  bookcase  ;  a 
piano,  surmounted  by  a  guitar,  with  a  stand  of  sliding 
shelves  beside  it  stocked  with  well-thumbed  music — en- 
gravings of  a  national  character  suspended  from  the 
wall — each  chair  a  luxurious  lounge,  with  correspond- 
ing furniture  tastefully  chosen — all  were  in  beautiful 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN-.  43 

keeping  witli  the  estimate  we  had  formed  of  our  patient's 
character. 

It  was  now  near  to  midnight,  and,  judging  I  could 
safely  steal  away  on  a  rapid  drive  among  my  other  pa- 
tients, I  jumped  into  my  buggy  at  the  door.  After  the 
ordinary  incidents  of  visits  which  did  not  occupy  long,  I 
drove  to  the  hotel.  I  was  much  surprised  to  find  our 
of&ce  thronged  with  visitors,  who,  it  appears,  unable  to 
sleep  from  thinking  of  the  horrors  around  them,  sought 
companionship  to  dispel  their  gloom.  I  threw  myself, 
exhausted,  on  a  sofa,  and  slept  until  daylight,  awakening 
much  refreshed.  I  was  too  much  engaged  on  the  next 
day  to  pay  the  usual  visits  to  Mrs.  L.  and  her  son,  but 
heard  from  the  doctor  of  their  condition. 

At  10  P.M.  I  stopped  at  her  house.  The  servant, 
who  heard  me  enter,  met  me  with  the  information  that 
his  mistress  was  much  worse,  and  that  the  doctor,  who 
had  just  left,  had  said  his  master  was  dying. 

The  musquito  bar  had  been  drawn  from  the  bed,  and 
there  he  lay  in  all  the  violent  symptoms  of  dissolution. 
The  black  vomit  curled  involuntarily  from  his  mouth  to 
the  pillow ;  a  twitching  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  gave 
it  a  sardonic  expression ;  his  breath  was  quick,  hot,  and 
repulsive ;  as  his  breast  heaved,  he  moaned ;  the  eyes 
wandered  in  every  direction  he  could  turn  his  head, 
resting  not  a  second  on  any  thing  ;  and,  to  complete  the 
picture,  his  fingers  were  active  in  picking  at  the  bed- 
clothes. 

To  all  my  inquiries  he  was  silent.  He  seemed  bent 
on  combating  the  disease  one  moment,  passing  his 
hands  as  if  for  relief  across  his  breast ;  at  another,  roll- 
ing on  the  side  to  avoid  suffocation.  He  gratefully  re- 
ceived the  pieces  of  ice  we  placed  in  his  mouth,  and 
rapidly  cracked  and  swallowed  them.  Again  he  repeat- 
ed the  cries  of  "  Mother !  mother !"  at  the  same  time  en- 
deavoring to  rise  from  the  bed :  which  effort,  after  we 


44  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN". 

had  overpowered  him,  completely,  as  we  thought,  pros- 
trated his  remaining  strength.  "  Here !  here !"  cried  he, 
pointing  to  his  breast;  "fire!  fire!  mother!  oh,  come  to 
me !"  This  continued  cry  gave  me  serious  fears  for  her 
and  I  left  for  her  room.  The  constant  interruption  to 
repose,  and  the  disturbance  of  mind  occasioned  by  these 
poignant  cries,  had  injuriously  affected  her.  She  said 
she  knew  her  son  was  dying,  and  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  survive  him.  She  complained  of  great  heat  of  the 
stomach,  which  made  itself  evident  shortly  after  in 
retching.  In  a  moment  I  was  at  the  hotel,  and  returned 
with  the  doctor.  He  gave  his  orders  to  the  nurse,  and 
requested  I  would  remain  to  see  or  assist  in  carrjdng 
them  out.  Before  he  left  I  did  not  think  it  worth  while 
to  ask  his  opinion  of  her.     I  read  it  in  his  countenance. 

"While  the  nurse  was  attending  to  matters  which  dis- 
pensed with  my  presence  in  the  room,  I  descended  to 
the  parlor,  and,  taking  a  book,  hoped  to  relieve  myself 
from  the  saddening  reflections  which  possessed  me.  My 
eyes  mechanically  passed  over  pages  without  impressing 
my  mind  with  the  subject.  I  had  been  thus  engaged 
when  Mrs.  L.  sent  the  nurse  to  say  she  desired  to  see 
me. 

"As  I  am  assured,"  she  said,  "that  there  is  no  hope 
of  my  son's  recovery,  and  as  his  end  will  be  the  imme- 
diate precursor  of  mine,  I  have  called  joii  particularl}^ 
now,  while  I  am  able  to  do  so,  to  do  farther  acts  of  kind- 
ness, which  shall  receive  my  last  acknowledgments.  I 
am  told  my  son  is  insensible  to  any  impressions.  It  will 
please  me  much,  though,  if  you  will  take  this,  his  father's 
gift,  to  hhn — "  Here  sobs  and  bitter  tears,  lasting  many 
minutes,  prevented  farther  utterance.  She  had  grasped 
a  book  from  her  side  as  she  spoke  the  last  words,  and 
still  held  it  in  her  hands.  I  saw  that  it  was  a  small 
edition  of  the  Bible.  She  continued :  "  Take  this  book 
to  him ;  press  it  to  his  lips,  as  it  has  been  often  to  mine, 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  45 

in  remembrance  of  the  same  act  performed  by  him  to 
his  father,  and  cherished  on  that  account.  It  was  onr 
promise  to  each  other  to  sanctify  the  first  act  by  the  like 
performance  to  either  of  us  under  a  similar  misfortune." 

It  was  a  simple  performance,  and  I  rose  to  do  her 
bidding.  At  first  I  attempted  to  arouse  him  by  saying 
his  mother  had  sent  him  the  book  for  the  expressed 
purpose.  He  turned  his  gaze  toward  me  without 
answering,  even  in  action,  as  I  held  the  book  before 
him.  I  then  placed  it  in  his  hand  and  conveyed  it  to  his 
lips.  So  soon  as  I  did  so  he  appreciated  the  object,  and, 
pressing  it  to  his  lips,  he  increased  his  moans,  with  the 
cry  of  "Mother!  mother!  where  are  you  when  I  am 
dying  V  Again  it  was  with  the  utmost  force  we  could 
keep  him  in  bed. 

I  returned  to  Mrs.  L. ;  she  had  heard  all ;  and  upon 
being  told  that  her  son  had  performed  the  required  act, 
she  exclaimed,  "It  is  all  well  now:  my  son  is  God's 
own  child.  Just  reaching  manhood  too — to  die !  He 
was  the  favorite  of  his  set,  sir.  We  will  leave  this 
world  together — oh  yes,  together!" 

I  thought  there  was  an  effort  to  shed  tears.  It  would 
have  been  a  relief;  but  she  was  trying  to  be  resigned, 
and  the  anguish  expressed  in  her  countenance  spoke  of 
the  combat  going  on  within  herself.  Thus  she  lay  for 
ten  minutes  in  intense  abstraction,  the  Bible  pressed  to 
her  lips  with  both  hands.  In  a  quiet  tone  she  said, 
"  Another  favor :  with  the  last  survivor,  place  this  book 
in  the  coffin." 

By  her  request,  I  read  to  her  several  psalms  and 
hymns  which  she  selected.  She  would  frequently  Iut 
terrupt  me  before  finishing  a  stanza,  and  repeat  the  line 
which  struck  her  as  applicable  to  her  condition,  and 
dwell  upon  each  word  with  im.pressive  eloquence.  Then 
followed,  in  a  subdued  voice,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the 
beauties  of  which  are  only  known  to  those  who  have 


46  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

felt  its  embodiment  of  praise,  and  are  themselves  grate- 
fully dependent.  The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  fortunate 
and  unfortunate,  the  easily  contented  and  the  woebe- 
gone, in  their  practice  of  rehgion  articulate  these  same 
words.  They  are  as  comfortable  to  the  mind  of  the  dy- 
ing as  to  the  hving ;  yet  how  different  in  meaning  and 
expression  are  they  respectively  ejaculated!  Its  grate- 
ful essence  of  dependence  brings  all  to  a  better  knowl- 
edge of  themselves.  It  is  an  epitome  of  faith,  hope, 
charity,  and  praise.  The  universality  of  its  application 
to  the  condition  of  man  is  an  earnest  of  its  divine  origin. 
It  is  the  embodiment  of  morality.  In  a  word,  it  typifies 
the  volume  of  Sacred  Writ  as  well  as  it  embraces  the 
cardinal  features  of  heathen  worship  and  savage  adora- 
tion. 

She  now  expressed  a  desire  to  live,  to  do  the  same 
acts  for  another  which  I  had  done  for  her  and  hers. 
She  thanked  me  in  all  language  that  can  be  used,  un- 
mindful that  her  very  gratitude  and  appreciation  of  the 
service  I  had  performed  made  me  her  debtor  for  the 
opportunity.  As  I  arose  to  leave  she  gave  me  her  hand 
and  said,  "  Indeed,  indeed,  you  should  be  blessed.  An 
angel  could  do  no  more." 

It  occurred  to  me  now  to  ask  if  she  would  not  permit 
me  to  go  for  her  clergyman,  which  before  I  feared  to  do, 
as  it  might  confirm  her  in  her  presentiment,  and  render 
medical  treatment  powerless. 

"Alas!"  she  said,  "he  and  his  family  became  terror- 
stricken,  and  long  since  left  for  the  interior." 

"  Shall  I  not  call  in  another  ?  The  form  of  a  religion 
or  profession  of  faith  is  too  trifling  a  thing  to  except  to, 
when  all  have  the  same  object  and  jDurpose  in  view." 

"  No,  no ;  stay  you  only,  as  my  guardian  angel,  for 
yet  a  short  while.  I  feel  that  this  burning  heat  within 
will  soon  exhaust  me.  I  hope  so.  I  have  made  my 
peace  with  my  Grod.     Would  you  beheve  that  I  looked 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  47 

for  all  this?  Yes,  and  just  as  it  has  happened.  When 
my  son  was  first  taken  sick,  the  whole  of  the  painful 
reality — his  now  dying  state,  my  prostration  in  this  bed, 
a  strange  visitor,  and  a  termination  horrible  to  dwell  on, 
all  passed  before  me." 

An  infatuation  similar  to  this  is  often  met  with  in  fe- 
ver-patients. The  reality  seems  to  the  sufferer  a  dream 
of  earlier  date.  I  saw  that  my  presence  incited  her  to 
too  much  conversation ;  and,  as  I  could  not  be  farther 
useful,  and  repose  was  all-important,  I  withdrew. 

Again  I  approached  the  bedside  of  the  son.  His 
pulse  was  scarcely  perceptible  to  the  touch.  He  lay 
calm,  and  unmindful  of  any  thing  passing  around  him. 
From  time  to  time  he  opened  his  mouth  as  a  sign  for  the 
negro  to  give  him  more  ice. 

I  descended  to  the  parlor,  and  tried  again  to  read. 
My  thoughts  still  dwelt  upon  this  picture,  so  different 
from  others  I  was  attending.  I  tried  to  sleep,  expecting 
to  be  awoke  when  there  was  need  of  me.  The  mantle 
clock  struck  one ;  I  thought  it  was  at  least  three  o'clock. 
So  different  wear  the  hours  away  when  the  heart  is  glad 
in  its  sympathies  than  when  desponding  of  success.  A 
thousand  mournful  memories  arose  before  me  as  I  lay 
down  to  court  the  "  dewy -feathered  sleep."  Stimulants 
now  to  nerve  me  to  my  duties  became  a  substitute  for 
repose.  Of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  shriek,  startling  to  the 
hearers.  It  was  one  long,  agonizing  sound,  which  at  its 
close  was  accompanied  by  a  sound  as  of  heavy  bodies 
falling  on  the  floor  above  me.  In  an  instant  I  was  on 
the  spot.  The  horror  of  a  more  heart-rending  scene 
than  ever  fancy  painted  shocked  me,  and  riveted  me  to 
the  floor  as  I  stepped  into  the  room. 

It  appeared  that  the  servant  of  the  son  had  left  the 
room  to  procure  more  ice  from  a  box  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor.  The  patient  had  watched  this  opportunity,  and 
the  desire  that  had  been  uppermost  in  his  mind  for  sev- 


48  DIAHY   OF   A   SAiVrARITAIs^ 

eral  days  to  see  his  motlier  was  not  lost  sight  of.  "With 
almost  superhuman  exertion  he  arose  from  his  bed,  and, 
supporting  himself  to  the  next  room,  before  the  nurse 
could  intervene,  he  had  fallen  a  corpse  by  his  mother's 
bed,  with  his  last  breath  crying  "My  mother !  my  moth- 
er !"  As  soon  as  she  perceived  her  son,  she  raised  her- 
self in  the  bed  and  uttered  the  terrifying  scream ;  then, 
as  if  in  the  act  of  catching,  lost  her  equilibrium  on  the 
bed,  and,  bearing  down  the  coverings  with  her,  fell  upon 
his  lifeless  body.  I  took  no  note  of  minutes ;  we  were 
all  nearly  helpless  from  surprise.  We  took  hold  of  the 
widow  to  lift  her  on  the  bed.  She  had  just  begun  to  be 
conscious  of  the  reality,  and,  throwing  aside  our  arms, 
she  sobbed  upon  his  brow  in  wild  agony.  In  a  short 
time  she  was  gentle  and  yielding  as  we  took  her  in  our 
arms  and  lifted  her  in  bed.  While  the  nurse  and  I 
watched  the  mother,  the  corpse  of  the  son  was  taken  into 
the  next  room. 

She  lay  perfectly  tranquil,  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy. 
Dreaming  or  insane  ?  For  either  it  was  my  prayer ;  for 
the  realization  of  such  a  scene  was  enough  to  crush  with 
avalanche  force  remaining  vitality.  We  had  no  com- 
fort in  words  to  offer,  but  occupied  ourselves  in  offering 
drinks,  and  in  cooling  her  fevered  brow.  For  a  long 
time  she  moved  not  a  limb  or  muscle ;  still  fixed  were 
those  eyes,  full  of  thoughtfulness.  Her  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  to  resignation  despair  now  seemed  to  suc- 
ceed. 

Suddenly  her  eyelids  closed,  and,  lifting  her  hand  to 
her  forehead,  as  if  recalling  a  dream,  she  exclaimed, 

"Who's  there?  who's  there?" 

"It  is  I,"  we  simultaneously  replied;  "do  you  not 
know  me?" 

As  if  begging  for  her  life,  and  with  the  intonation 
noticed  on  her  first  appeal  to  the  doctor  to  visit  her  son, 
she  ejaculated  at  intervals,  "  For  pity's  sake,  do  not  mur» 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  49 

der  me !  My  son !  my  son !  they  are  taking  me  away 
from  you.  Haste !  liaste !  Ah !  ah !  ah !  ah !  you  have 
come  in  time."  Her  arms  wildly  clasped  a  shadow,  and, 
as  her  head  rolled  on  her  arm,  I  thought  it  was  her  last 
effort.  Soon  the  dread  precursor  came  in  a  continuous 
stream,  followed  by  such  violent  convulsion  of  the  whole 
frame  as  to  shake  the  bedstead.  Hastily  replacing  clean 
linen  imder  her  head,  I  saw  my  services  were  coming  to 
an  end.  I  directed  the  servants  to  wash  the  corpse  of 
the  son ;  assisted  them  in  dressing  it,  closed  the  eyes, 
and  tied  a  handkerchief  under  his  chin.  This  did  not 
take  more  than  half  an  hour.'  I  was  about  to  depart  on 
other  duties  deferred,  when  the  nurse  stopped  me  to  say 
Mrs.  L.  desired  one  word  with  me. 

"Don't  leave  me  noiv^^''  said  she.  " Oh!  stay  a  little 
longer.     I  shall  soon  die." 

I  told  her  that  I  intended  to  apprise  the  neighbors  of 
her  situation,  who  would  be  glad,  from  their  inquiries 
of  her,  to  wait  upon  her. 

"  I  do  not  want  them.     For  charity's  sake,  you  stay." 

I  drew  a  chair  and  sat  by  the  bed.  She  drew  my 
hand  to  her  lips,  saying,  "  God  bless  you,  sir ;  a  stranger, 
and  so  kind." 

I  was  not  as  experienced  then  in  mastering  my  feel- 
ings as  I  am  now  under  such  circumstances.  Tears  in- 
voluntarily gushed  from  me,  and,  on  looking  at  the  nurse, 
I  found  her  equally  affected. 

The  widow  asked  for  the  Bible.  She  looked  at  me 
as  she  placed  it  to  her  heart,  and  said,  "  This  has  been 
my  comfort  and  happiness ;  be  it  so  to  you." 

An  indistinct  muttering  as  she  closed  her  eyes  told 
me  she  was  absorbed  in  prayer.  Alternately  her  re- 
m.arks  were  sensible  and  unmeaning.     She  told  me  that 

papers  in  her  drawer  would  be  called  for  by  Lawyer . 

She  begged  me  to  take  from  her  jewelry  a  memento  of 
her.     She  thanked  me  over  and  over  again ;  repeated 

n 


50  DIARY  OF  A  sa:!j:aeitan. 

parts  of  a  hymn  I  had  read  to  her  ;  and,  just  as  day  was 
heralding  its  advent  by  the  gray  tint  on  the  horizon,  her 
spirit  gently  and  imjDercejDtibly  left  its  mortal  tenement, 
wreathed  in  jDleasant  fancies,  doubtless  borne  on  the 
wings  of  hope  and  faith,  in  company  with  her  son,  to  the 
happy  future  of  a  well-spent  life. 

It  was  the  occupation  of  a  few  minutes  to  apprise  the 
neighbors  of  the  fatality.  I  hurried  to  the  hotel,  threw 
mj'self  on  a  bed  without  undressing,  and  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  inebriate,  unconscious  of  the  outer  world,  and 
tossed  in  horrid  dreams,  the  fruits  of  the  scenes  just 
passed  through.  Two  hours  after  I  awoke  with  a  vio- 
lent headache.  AVith  a  memorandum  and  report  of 
their  deaths  was  buried  temporarily  the  recollection  of 
the  incidents.  The  condition  of  others  equally  distress- 
ed engrossed  anew  my  time  and  thoughts. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

The  Confidence  of  the  Sick. — The  Sickness  of  a  Family. — The  Devo- 
tion of  Ina. — The  Death  of  little  Georgy. 

The  modus  ojjemndi  of  the  Howard  Association  is  im- 
perfectly shown  in  the  details  of  the  preceding  case  of 
the  widow  and  her  son.  I  selected  it  the  first,  among 
others,  to  bring  it  in  comparison  with  those  of  humbler 
life,  which  is  more  peculiarly  our  province.  It  will 
strike  many  that  there  is  a  vein  of  pretentiousness  and 
egotism  running  through  the  opinions  and  conversations, 
which  wiU  have  the  effect  to  detract  from  the  merit  of 
the  narrative,  if  they  do  not  bring  the  veracity  of  the 
author  into  question ;  for  true  merit  is  modest  to  assert, 
and  vaunts  not  superior  virtue  in  its  works.  My  aim, 
to  place  the  practice  of  good  works  before  the  world,  to 
drag  to  light  their  hidden  pleasures  for  imitation,  can 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  51 

not  be  restrained  by  the  fear  of  censure  or  ridicule.  I 
claim  no  praise  for  wliat  I  have  done.  I  should  be  less 
than  human  if  my  sentiments  were  other  than  I  express- 
ed, albeit  we  blush  at  our  amiable  weaknesses.  I  have 
curtailed  the  conversations  of  much  that  would  be  con- 
strued into  vanity.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to  escape 
the  affectation  of  it,  unless  I  omit  them  altogether,  and 
destroy  this  character  of  all  narratives.  Family  difficul- 
ties and  oppressions  of  kindred,  which  slander  gloats 
over  in  refined  circles,  and  for  which  redress  is  had, 
without  shame,  to  the  courts  of  law,  are  submitted  to  by 
the  lower  classes  with  dignified  grace,  and  with  more  of 
sorrow  than  indignation.  When  the  physical  infirmities 
and  temporary  wants  of  families  had  been  dispelled  and 
satisfied,  they  leaned  upon  me  for  condolence  and  ad- 
vice for  their  sickness  of  heart  or  crushed  feelings.  The 
lapse  in  morality  or  virtue  which  stained  their  hearth 
was  dwelt  upon  with  a  bitterness  of  anguish  which  ex- 
pressed how  strongly  they  despised  the  sin,  how  deej)ly 
they  pitied  and  lamented  the  sinner.  Their  recitals  left 
upon  me  no  such  impression  that  they  considered  their 
characters  reflected  upon  by  the  sins  or  misdeeds  of  a 
relative,  how  much  soever  they  might  suffer  from,  the 
acts.  As  I  deemed  their  confidence  in  their  revelations 
the  mere  tribute  to  and  consequence  of  my  services  and 
sympathy,  how  interesting  soever  the  details  might  be 
to  the  reader,  where  there  is  the  least  possibility  of  rec- 
ognition, or  where  painful  reflections  would  ensue  to  a 
survivor  or  relative,  I  have  kept  their  secrets  as  closely 
locked  in  my  breast  as  in  a  confessional. 

A  cottage  house  near  the  gas-works  at  Mobile  was 
the  residence  of  a  family  consisting  of  man,  wife,  and 
five  children,  the  latter  ranging  in  age  from  five  to  sev- 
enteen years.  Being  attended  by  a  resident  physician, 
their  demand  upon  us  was  for  the  necessaries  of  life. 
The  citizen  who  informed  me  of  their  condition  told  me 


52  DIARY  OF  A  SA^IARITAN. 

that  all  but  one  were  prostrated  by  the  fever,  and  from 
the  long  duration  of  it  in  the  family  their  means  had 
become  exhausted,  and  that  they  would  starve  rather 
than  beg.  He  thought  they  might  be  approached  so  that 
they  would  appreciate  a  kindness  even  from  a  stranger, 
without  feeling  the  shame  of  dependence  on  charity.  I 
thought  so  too,  and  started  forth  in  search  of  them. 

A  small  garden-patch  between  the  house  and  sidewalk 
was  divided  by  a  walk,  and  planted  with  rose  and  other 
bushes,  neglected  of  late,  but  no  less  an  introduction  to 
the  endearment  of  home  entertained  by  the  inmates. 
The  house  contained  four  rooms,  with  a  gallery  in  the 
rear,  having  cabinets  on  the  sides.  In  a  spacious  yard  a 
shed  was  erected,  where  the  necessary  utensils  of  cook- 
ery met  the  eye.  The  rooms  of  the  house  were  respect- 
ively appropriated  to  a  parlor,  with  eating-room  in  the 
rear,  and  two  sleeping-apartments,  all  with  doors  open- 
ing to  the  rooms  adjoining. 

When  I  entered  the  parlor,  the  door  of  which  was 
open,  and  with  a  gentle  rap  met  with  no  response,  I  ad- 
vanced to  the  adjoining  front  room,  the  door  to  which 
was  partially  open.  With  a  gentle  tap  here,  I  received 
an  invitation  to  enter,  and  I  found  myself  before  a  bed 
where  lay  the  mother  with  a  girl  of  fourteen  years,  and 
near  to  them  the  father  in  a  bed  with  the  boy  of  five 
years.  Two  other  children,  both  girls,  occupied  a  small 
bedstead  in  the  back  room.  The  remaining  child,  a  lit- 
tle girl  of  eight  years,  had  just  entered,  bringing  a  pitch- 
er of  water. 

As  I  made  my  bow,  with  a  salutation  of  "  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  be  of  use  to  you,"  the 
little  girl,  whose  name  was  Ina,  remarked  that  "  per- 
haps I  was  the  good  gentleman  Dr. said  would  call 

to  see  us." 

The  father  looked  at  me,  as  if  he  saw  in  my  youth  or 
apparel  nothing  to  indicate  a  sympathy  for  him;  the 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  53 

wife,  disturbed  by  my  entrance,  and  perhaps  nnwilling  to 
be  seen  to  be  afterward  recognized  as  an  object  of  char- 
ity, drew  the  coverlet  of  the  bed  close  above  the  neck 
of  herself  ap.d  daughter.  ISTone  spoke  or  looked  a  wel- 
come. I  patted  the  little  girl  with  the  pitcher  on  the 
head — a  bright,  healthy,  and  happy -looking  child — as 
though  I  depended  upon  her  for  assistance  in  furthering 
my  wishes.  At  that  moment  she  was  called  by  her 
mother.  She  bounded  to  the  bedside,  flinging  back  a 
smile  to  me.  She  listened  to  the  whispered  orders  of 
her  mother ;  removed  several  articles  from  the  room ; 
then  brought  a  chair,  with  a  smart  grace,  and  placed  it 
before  me.  Having  seated  myself  beside  the  mother,  I 
learned  from  her  that  her  two  daughters  and  husband 
were  first  stricken  with  the  fever,  and  had  been  conva- 
lescing for  several  days ;  that  herself  and  the  daughter 
in  the  bed  with  her  were  pronounced  out  of  danger,  and 
that  her  fears  were  only  now  for  little  Georgy,  who  was 
in  his  third  day  of  attack.  From  the  commencement  of 
the  fever  among  them,  the  well  had  nursed  the  sick ; 
but,  since  three  days  past,  Ina,  the  youngest  daughter, 
was  their  sole  reliance  to  run  errands,  and  to  prepare 
their  drinks  and  broths,  and  to  attend  generally  in  the 
rooms.  For  an  hour  or  so  at  a  time  a  neighbor  wou.ld 
sit  with  them,  who  feared  by  too  long  attendance  to  con- 
tract the  same  disease.  I  saw  my  visit  was  well  timed. 
Turning  toward  the  father,  I  explained  to  him  the  ob- 
jects and  duties  of  our  association ;  among  others,  that 
an  inviolable  secrecy  was  enjoined  upon  us  in  our  inter- 
course with  applicants ;  and  that,  if  he  would  permit  me 
to  gratify  his  wishes,  he  would  place  me  under  obliga- 
tions to  him.  He  returned  me  no  reply.  A  conflict,  I 
thought,  was  passing  within  him  as  he  pondered  on  my 
words.  Perhaps  I  had  awoke  in  him  a  sense  of  the  des- 
olateness  of  his  condition.  Seeing  he  continued  silent, 
I  left  him  to  his  reflections,  to  take  a  survey  of  the  pan- 


54:  DIAEY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

try,  or  to  inquire  of  Ina  the  necessaries  required  for 
their  sustenance  and  comfort.  The  father  heard  me  in 
conversation  with  her,  and  called  to  her  in  an  authori- 
tative tone  to  come  to  him.  I  followed,  and  explained 
the  purport  of  mj  conversation  with  her.  I  told  him  I 
was  determined  to  perform  what  I  had  promised,  and 
what  was  enjoined  upon  me ;  that,  where  I  found  dis- 
tress, I  would  relieve  it,  nolens  volens. 

"  We  want  nothing,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  a  phy- 
sician, and  can  pay  for  my  own  medicines.  I  have 
friends,  sir,  and  do  not  seek  the  charity  of  strangers.  I 
thank  you  for  your  kind  offer,  but  I  choose  not  to 
trouble  you." 

This  was  said  in  a  slow  and  determined  voice,  and  I 
thought  angrily.  The  eyes  of  all  the  sick  were  upon  me,, 
and  no  doubt  looked  for  my  immediate  departure.  I 
spoke  of  my  acquaintance  with  their  physician,  and 
urged  my  claim  to  their  notice  on  the  strength  of  our 
mutual  friendshijD  ;  and  told  him  that  his  family  should 
want  nothing,  for  an  invisible  hand  would  do  for  them 
all  that  was  required,  through  the  former.  ''Indeed, 
you  are  good,  sir,"  said  the  mother.  "  Why  don't  you 
let  the  gentleman  have  his  way?"  To  this  he  made  no 
response.  I  left  them,  saj^ing  I  should  shortly  return, 
allowing  them  sufficient  time  to  hold  a  family  consulta- 
tion on  the  propriety  of  acceding  to  my  request.  Cer- 
tain of  the  result,  I  drove  in  my  gig  to  the  hotel.  I 
there  found  a  nurse  of  some  experience  in  a  sick-room, 
though  chiefly  recommended  herself  to  me  on  account 
of  being  known  to  the  family.  Taking  her  along  with 
me,  I  left  her  in  the  parlor,  while  I  softly  opened  the 
door  of  the  bedroom  and  looked  in,  unobserved  by  any 
of  them.  All  was  silence ;  Ina  was  not  there.  Expect- 
ing to  find  her  about  the  house,  I  walked  to  the  rear, 
and  thence  beheld  her  under  a  shed  in  the  yard,  on 
her  knees,  bending  over  some  half-expired  embers,  en- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  55 

deavoring  to  coax  tliem  to  a  flame.  When  she  was  ap- 
prised of  my  presence,  she  merely  turned  her  head, 
bowed  with  a  smile,  and  resumed  her  occupation.  Her 
earnestness  in  her  work  impressed  me  with  the  opinion 
that  she  was  proud  and  conceited  with  self-importance 
in  having  such  a  weighty  charge  upon  her  as  now  de- 
volved from  necessity.  She  the  sole  prop  to  her  father 
and  mother's  comfort !  It  was  a  triumph,  truly,  in  one 
of  her  years,  to  be  able  to  administer  to  their  wants,  to 
be  their  only  dependence.  I  questioned  her  as  to  the 
result  of  her  family's  deliberation  on  admitting  me  to 
visit  them.  "  Pa  told  me,"  she  said,  "  to  do  what  you 
ordered."  That  was  suf&cient  to  satisfy  me  that  I  had 
overcome  the  objections  I  feared. 

Perhaps  the  reader — free. from  the  accident  of  poverty 
or  the  humiliation  of  dependence — will  smile  at  my  cre- 
dulity, and  think  it  a  false  delicacy,  to  be  frowned  down 
in  a  laboring  man,  to  refuse  the  charity  or  free  offerings 
of  neighbors  to  relieve  him.  It  is  a  mistaken  notion. 
Many  have  died  with  starvation  in  sacrifice  to  their 
pride ;  many  more  have  rushed  headlong,  on  the  advent 
of  adversity,  into  forgetful  dissipation,  rather  than  suffer 
the  humiliation  of  dependence  or  the  risk  of  refusal  for 
assistance.  The  impulses  of  men  are  mental  instincts, 
alike  in  poor  and  rich.  They  feel  alike,  notwithstand- 
ing the  refinement  (!)  of  education  or  position  in  society 
make  them  act  differently.  ^'A  man's  a  man  for  a' 
that." 

I  now  informed  Ina  that  I  had  brought  her  one  to 
assist  her ;  that  she  had  proved  herself  a  worthy,  good, 
and  smart  girl,  but  must  work  no  more,  or  she  too  would 
fall  sick. 

She  turned  toward  me,  and,  in  a  tone  of  mortified 
pride,  she  asked,  "  Who  will  make  my  pa  and  ma  their 
tea  ?  Who  will  go  for  their  medicines  ?  They  will  not 
take  it  from  any  body  but  me,  and  I  won't  let  any  one 


56  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

else  wait  on  them."  She  now  began  to  cry  aloud,  and 
was  approaching  the  house,  when  I  farther  expostulated 
on  the  necessity  of  a  more  experienced  person,  and  of 
one,  too,  whom  she  knew.  When  I  pointed  to  her  the 
nurse,  she  became  appeased.  1 23romised  that  she  should 
yet  have  enough  to  do.  I  entered  the  house  by  the 
rear.  The  two  eldest  girls  occupied  this  room.  They 
kindly  recognized  me  as  I  entered,  and  answered  ques- 
tions as  to  their  condition.  A  bowl  of  broth  and  a 
glass  of  diluted  ale  on  a  table  beside  them  evinced  the 
progress  of  their  convalescence.  They  seemed  pleased 
at  the  interest  I  took  in  them  by  engaging  the  nurse. 
Our  conversation  was  overheard  by  those  in  the  next 
room.  I  began  now  to  give  instructions  to  the  nurse  in 
her  duties.  I  particularly  charged  her  to  notice  and 
guard  the  patients  against  any  sudden  change  in  the 
temperature. 

It  is  a  characteristic  evidence  of  pure  yellow  fever, 
and  the  unmistakable  criterion  by  which  its  attack  is 
known,  to  be  ushered  in  with  a  chill  and  pains  in  the 
limbs.  During  an  epidemic,  all  fevers  will  assume  the 
types  of  a  yellow  fever ;  but  they  have  other  predisposing 
causes  than  that  which  initiates  the  Simon  pure  into  an 
organization  full  of  health  but  a  few  hours  before.  The 
sudden  change  in  the  temperature  provokes  the  latter, 
particularly  in  the  evening,  as  the  sun's  rays  leave  the 
earth,  when  the  thermometer  falls  sensibly.  During  the 
day  perspiration  oozes  from  every  pore  on  the  sunny 
side  of  the  street,  which  the  transition  to  the  shady  side 
arrests.  To  the  acclimated,  the  periods  of  epidemic  vis- 
itation are  invigorating  to  the  frame.  While,  in  the 
Northern  States,  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  day  is  suc- 
ceeded by  a  close,  enervating  atmosphere  of  sleep-dis- 
pelling influence,  in  this  latitude  extra  covering  has  to 
be  kept  near  at  hand,  to  protect  the  body  from  cold. 

During  this  day  and  previous  ones,  the  gentle  breezes 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  67 

from  tlie  soutlieast  were  succeeded  by  the  sudden  veer 
of  the  wind  at  night  from  the  opposite  direction.  It  was 
necessary  to  keep  the  door  well  closed  during  the  latter, 
as  the  draught  upon  unguarded  frames  was  dangerous. 
In  doing  so,  where  many  are  sick  in  the  same  chamber, 
a  disagreeable  fetid  odor,  arising  from  the  perspiration 
of  the  sick,  fills  the  room,  to  the  prejudice  of  recovery. 
This  odor  is  also  conclusive  of  the  presence  of  pure  yel- 
low fever,  and  is  familiar  as  such  to  every  physician.  To 
prevent  it  being  poisonous  to  the  patient  from  reinhal- 
ing  it,  to  purify  the  atmosphere  of  it  by  insensible  ven- 
tilation, fires  are  made  in  the  rooms. 

I  set  Ina  about  this,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  hearth 
blazed  with  a  correcting  heat.  This  was  done  without 
consulting  the  parents.  Shortly  afterward  the  nurse 
brought  in  the  hot  water  for  foot-baths.  I  told  the 
nurse  not  to"  encourage  a  conversation,  knowing  the 
propensity  of  her  sex  and  some  of  her  class,  when  so 
employed,  to  be  too  communicative,  and  frequently  upon 
subjects  dangerous  to  the  quiet  of  the  sick.  She  was 
simply  to  do  what  was,  with  propriety,  asked  by  them, 
and  to  adhere  closely  to  the  physician's  instructions  and 
prescriptions.  The  nurse  and  I  gave  the  baths,  which 
completed  the  work  of  the  night.  The  paraphernalia 
of  a  member  of  the  association  are  incomplete  without 
several  useful  adjuncts,  and  many  instruments  we  made 
it  a  point  to  have  always  near  at  hand. 

Both  man  and  wife  essayed  to  draw  me  into  conversa- 
tion, especially  the  former,  while  I  was  busy  in  making 
him  comfortable,  after  having  administered  to  him  a 
simple  but  indispensable  application.  I  had  now  satis- 
fied them  that  I  was  in  earnest,  and  told  them,  if  they 
wished  me  to  be  useful,  and  to  be  pleased  with  my  visits, 
they  should  not  talk  unnecessarily  to  me  or  to  each  oth- 
er. I  promised  that  in  a  day  or  two,  when  all  danger 
would  be  passed,  I  would  talk  them  to  death.     With  a 

C2 


68  DIAKY   OF  A   SAMARITAN. 

press  of  the  hand  all  round,  a  simultaneous  "  good-night" 
in  answer  to  mine  arose  from  both  parents,  and  was 
echoed  from  the  daughters  in  the  next  room. 

Here  was  a  triumph!  What  their  feelings  were  I 
might  guess ;  but  mine  were  elation  at  the  revolution  I 
had  caused  in  my  favor  and  in  their  fate.  My  stay  in 
the  neighborhood  detained  me  until  after  10  o'clock. 

It  was  on  this  night  that  the  fatal  results  attended  the 
widow  and  her  son.  The  effects  of  that  excitement  had 
enervated  me,  and  delayed  my  visit  to  my  patients  until 
8  o'clock. 

From  day  to  day  my  occupations  with  the  family  were 
the  same.  As  with  others,  so  with  them,  the  half  hour, 
morning  and  evening,  that  I  remained  with  them,  was 
spent  in  chatting  over  their  future,  telliDg  them  the 
news,  and  hstening  to  their  repeated  congratulations  that 
they  had  escaped  from  a  dreadful  disease  unscathed. 
The  incidents  of  treatment,  their  respective  remarks  un- 
der appliances,  now  became  a  merry  source  of  refer- 
ence. 

I  had  so  far  lost  but  five  patients  out  of  thirty-four ; 
most  of  the  sick  were  convalescing.  On  the  morning 
of  little  Georgy's  sixth  day,  when  I  confidently  expected 
to  find  him  complete  the  healthy  circle,  I  was  much  sur- 
prised on  seeing  restlessness,  with  a  hot  skin.  His  moth- 
er said  he  had  slept  soundly  all  night,  but  he  would  not 
be  prevailed  upon  to  keep  on  the  covering.  The  enema 
given  to  him  had  been  effective,  when  I  left  him  the 
night  before,  with  the  most  promising  results.  A  close 
observation  alarmed  me  of  the  threatening  danger. 

With  a  family  whose  warm  attachment  to  each  other 
enlisted  my  anxiety  for  each,  whose  fervent  piety  ex- 
hibited itself  in  the  morning  and  evening  prayers  read 
aloud  by  one  of  the  oldest  sisters  and  responded  to  by 
the  others,  to  start  a  doubt  with  regard  to  the  recovery 
of  any  one  of  them  I  knew  would  excite  painful  feel- 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  0^ 

ings  to  interfere  with  their  recovery.  In  Georgy's  criti- 
cal condition,  by  the  consent  of  the  physician,  I  proposed 
to  remove  him  to  the  adjoining  parlor,  under  the  excuse 
that  he  would  be  less  disturbed  and  less  disturbing. 
The  mother's  objections  to  losing  sight  of  her  child  were 
with  difficulty  removed,  and,  as  she  afterward  told  me, 
with  fatal  presentiments.  I  procured  a  cot  and  mattress 
from  the  neighborhood.  Entirely  unconscious,  or  in- 
different from  lassitude,  of  what  we  were  doing  with 
him,  he  offered  no  resistance.  I  promised  the  mother 
that  the  door  between  the  rooms  should  be  left  open 
so  long  as  it  was  mutually  beneficial.  The  physician 
found  that  his  urine  was  suppressed,  the  most  fatal 
symptom  in  this  disease,  as  it  is  the  most  difficult  to  cor- 
rect. It  is  a  frequent  attendant  of  relapse,  yielding  to 
no  remedies  that  do  not  leave  the  patient  under  long 
convalescence.  Some  pronounce  it  to  be  caused  by  the 
excess  of  nourishment,  and  thereby  overtaxing  the  se- 
cretory organs.  I  spent  several  hours  in  watching  the 
result  of  appliances  to  correct  the  symptoms  and  subdue 
the  pain.  On  the  following  night  I  found  him  rapidly 
expiring,  unconscious  of  all  around  him. 

Ina  came  into  the  room  and  interpreted  his  stupor 
into  a  healthy  sleep.  She  kissed  him  as  she  retired,  ex- 
pressing herself  happy  that  the  playmate  of  her  youth 
would  be  restored  to  her.  On  that  night  I  delayed  my 
visit  longer  than  usual,  for  I  momentarily  looked  for  his 
death.  While  seated  on  the  balcony,  I  could  not  be  but 
impressed  with  the  prayer  for  each  other's  safety,  in 
which,  after  "  God  preserve  to  health  and  usefulness  our 
father  and  mother,"  the  daughter  added,  "  and  Georgy 
too."  The  nurse  came  to  me  and  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder.  I  followed  her,  and  witnessed  the  gentle  de- 
parture of  the  spirit  of  the  favorite.  I  locked  the  door 
between  the  rooms.  The  nurse  discovered  the  bureau 
of  clothes,  and,  after  washing  the  body,  laid  it  out  on  the 


60  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

table.  That  tears  were  slied  over  innocence  departed, 
and  that  sympathy  would  exhibit  itself  for  the  living 
by  such  expressions,  were  natural.  He,  as  all  children, 
looked  the  apotheosis  of  triumph  over  death,  if  I  may  so 
strain  the  sentiment.  I  cut  off  several  locks  of  his  yel- 
low hair,  which  I  wrapped  in  a  j^aper,  and  placed  behind 
the  mirror  on  the  mantle.  My  whole  thoughts  were  now 
engaged  in  inventing  stratagems  to  conceal  his  death. 
The  mother  would  be  on  her  feet  in  a  day  or  two ;  but 
she,  too,  must  be  deceived,  for  fear  of  the  consequences 
to  her. 

A  carriage  with  a  coffin  followed  me  the  next  morn- 
ing early,  when  I  had  Georgy's  remains  taken  off  with- 
out even  the  knowledge  of  neighbors.  When  we  re- 
turned from  the  burial  Ina  was  waiting  on  the  gal- 
lery, and  complained  that  she  could  not  go  in  to  see  her 
brother.  I  reprimanded  her  for  interrupting  his  deep 
sleep  (she  afterward  reminded  me  of  this  expression), 
and  required  of  her  to  keep  to  herself  all  that  she  knew 
of  Georgy,  unless  she  could  say  well  of  him  to  her  par- 
ents. She  did  not  understand  my  equivocation,  and  did 
tell  of  the  circumstance  to  her  parents.  As  the  circum- 
stance justified  a  deception,  I  concluded  to  play  it  out. 
Accordingly,  I  called  Ina  to  me,  and  told  her  that  I  had 
sent  Georgy  away  to  a  friend  of  mine  at  Spring  Hill, 
where  the  fresh  air  would  quickly  recover  him,  and 
gave  her  permission  to  tell  her  parents  of  it. 

"  Georgy  gone  !"  she  exclaimed,  and  with  that  her  lit- 
tle heart  gave  way,  and  her  crying  became  so  loud  and 
long  that  it  caused  me  serious  apprehension  for  those  in 
the  next  room.  All  this  had  been  heard  by  the  latter, 
for  I  spoke  aloud  on  purpose.  When  I  entered  the 
chambers  by  the  back  door,  the  oldest  girls,  who  were 
sitting  up  in  bed,  did  not  greet  me  as  cordially  as  usual. 
One  of  them  intimated  that  I  was  deceiving  them  with 
regard  to  Georgy,  which  I  reproved  with  feigned  anger. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  61 

As  I  met  their  anxious  countenances,  wlien  I  asserted 
again  that  Georgy  "  was  doing  well,"  my  self-possession 
leaving  me,  convicted  of  the  lie.  Their  wish,  though, 
was  so  in  consonance  with  my  assertion  that  they  did 
not  criticise  my  awkwardness.  Cheerful  conversation 
on  different  subjects  served  still  more  to  dispel  suspi- 
cion. As  they  were  convalesced  sufficiently  to  indulge 
in  conversation,  I  drew  them  out  on  their  history  prior 
to  settling  in  Mobile.  They  also  congratulated  them- 
selves that  they  were  now  free,  as  I  told  them,  from 
many  diseases  hereafter. 

When  a  yellow-fever  patient  has  been  properly  cured 
(I  mean  without  being  drugged  with  mineral  poisons,  or 
his  system  abused  by  excessive  bloodletting,  and  free 
from  an  organic  disease  previously),  he  rises  with  im- 
munity not  only  from  all  fevers,  but  from  rheumatisms 
and  complaints  generally  of  the  nervous  system.  This 
is  founded  on  observations  of  many  years.  I  have  only 
found  it  contradicted  in  a  long  absence  from  this  lati- 
tude, intemperance,  and,  of  course,  old  age. 

To  resume.  My  patients  on  the  following  day  spoke 
cheerfully  of,  and  counted  the  days  to,  the  time  when 
they  would  be  restored  to  usefulness.  The.  father  re- 
marked that  he  never  knew,  before  this  calamity,  how 
much  they  were  attached  to  each  other ;  that  they  nev- 
er before  felt  the  strength  of  that  reliance  they  had 
placed  on  their  Maker ;  and  that,  with  recovery,  a  new 
life,  and  the  better  appreciation  of  the  end  and  aim  of 
existence,  was  opened  before  them. 

On  that  afternoon  I  had  ordered  the  nurse  to  procure 
an  assortment  of  groceries  suitable  for  convalescents  out 
of  danger.  As  I  remained  later  than  usual,  the  nurse 
and  Ina  exhausted  their  ingenuity  with  the  materials  in 
several  kinds  of  hot  cakes,  the  fumes  of  which,  minghng 
with  the  aroma  of  tea  and  coffee,  provoked  the  appetites 
of  the  convalescents  for  their  simple  diet,  and  shadowed 


62  DIAKY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

forth  to  tliem,  by  anticipation,  the  enjoyments  they  were, 
to  indulge  in  as  soon  as  the  fiat  of  the  physician  was  re- 
moved. Appetizing  as  were  the  dishes,  the  deceit  I  had 
•used  toward  them  respecting  Georgy's  death  choked  my 
indulgence. 

After  tea  I  offered  my  hand  to  each,  saying  that  prob- 
ably it  would  be  the  last  time  I  should  see  them,  as  my 
services  were  at  an  end,  and  my  time  called  for  else- 
where. The  hand  was  pressed  with  feeling  by  each. 
Compliments  and  thanks  were  fulsomely  heaped  upon 
me.  I  was  promised  to  be  remembered  in  their  prayers 
that  night  and  forever.  Ina  cried  aloud  as  I  kissed  her 
farewell,  and  promised  she  should  know  of  Georgy  in  a 
day  or  two.  Grateful  tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  all,  and 
I  left,  feeling  as  light  of  sin  and  earthliness  in  these  acts 
of  good  as  if  I  were  above  them. 

Two  days  elapsed,  when  the  nurse  called  upon  me 
for  a  settlement.  She  reported  them  to  be  able  to  take 
care  of  each  other,  and  to  have  su£S.cient  provisions  in 
the  house  to  last  them  ten  days.  The  day  after  I  left 
one  of  the  children  spoke  of  going  to  see  Georgy,  with- 
out comment  being  made  upon  it.  She  believed  the 
mother  strongly  suspected  his  death  from  one  circum 
stance,  that  but  one  suit  of  his  clothes  had  been  taken. 
She  had  noticed  whisperings  between  them  which  she 
supposed  Georgy  to  be  the  subject  of 

I  determined  to  pay  them  a  visit,  and  break  to  them 
the  truth.  I  surprised  the  mother  putting  away  cloth- 
ing in  a  shelved  recess.  When  she  recognized  me  she 
approached  to  give  me  her  hand.  Her  inflamed  and 
swollen  eyes,  from  bitterly  weeping,  revealed  to  me  that 
she  was  confirmed  in  her  fears.  She  was  choked  for 
utterance  as  she  took  from  the  corner  of  a  shelf  the  pair 
of  shoes  Georgy  had  last  worn,  which  had  been  conceal- 
ed there  by  the  nurse,  and  placed  them  on  the  mantle 
alongside  of  the  parcel  which  inclosed  the  locks  of  his 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  63 

yellow  hair.  These  were  now  sacred  relics  to  her. 
"Be  comforted,  madam;  'tis  God's  will,"  was  all  that  I 
could  articulate.  She,  like  Kachel  over  her  children, 
would  not  be  comforted.  I  saw  I  could  not  console  her, 
and  that  her  grief,  as  she  rested  her  head  upon  the  man- 
tle-piece, would  only  increase  with  my  presence.  "  You 
will  pardon  me  for  the  deception?"  I  said  to  her. 
"Yes,  yes,"  she  replied;  "I  know  you  did  it  for  the 
best." 

I  entered  the  next  room,  where  I  saw  the  father  and 
four  children  seated  around  a  fire.  They  had  heard  my 
voice  in  the  next  room.  Instead  of  rising  to  bid  me 
welcome,  the  children,  on  seeing  me,  buried  their  faces 
in  their  hands  or  handkerchiefs,  relieving  anew  their 
bleeding  hearts.  The  father  remained  firmly  fixed  in 
his  chair,  his  body  bent  forward,  each  hand  clasping  a 
knee,  while  he  gazed  intently  on  the  glowing  embers. 
I  gently  touched  his  shoulder,  which  he  responded  to  by 
throwing  one  hand  back  to  me,  and  with  the  other  to 
his  forehead,  he  sobbed  aloud,  "My  darling  Georgy! 
gone !  gone !"  When  Ina  heard  this  she  shrieked  with 
grief  and  left  the  roonr.  Apprehensive  of  danger  to 
her  from  such  excessive  manifestation,  I  followed  after 
her.  I  traced  her  to  the  shed,  where  she  had  been  so 
useful.  Her  frequent  ejaculations  of  "  Oh,  my  brother 
Georgy !  oh,  my  brother  Georgy !"  were  painful  to  hear. 
She,  too,  would  not  be  soothed.  I  told  her  I  was  about 
to  leave  them,  perhaps  forever,  and,  to  please  me,  she 
must  now  check  her  grief.  She  became  more  passive. 
As  I  turned  my  back  she  ran  after  me,  and  in  the  sim- 
ple innocence  of  heart  asked  me  if  I  thought  "  Georgy 
had  gone  to  heaven."  "  Do  you  not  read  it,"  said  I,  "  in 
the  Bible  ?  '  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  for 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'" 

I  returned  to  the  group  at  the  fireside.  I  was  sure 
they  appreciated  the  motive  for  concealing  the  death  of 


64  DIARY   OF   A   SAMAEITAX. 

Georgy.  Each,  seemed  waiting  on  tlie  other  to  address 
me.  I  had  nothing  to  say,  and  was  deferring  from  min- 
ute to  minute  the  words  of  parting,  for  I  felt  as  if  their 
loss  was  mine  also.  They  had  not  noticed  that  I  was 
standing,  so  absorbed  were  they  in  their  own  reflections. 
At  last  I  remarked  that  I  intended  to  leave  them  for 
my  home.  All  arose.  Each  pressed  my  hand  feelingly, 
showering  upon  me  the  while  words  of  gratitude  and 
good  wishes.  I  was  to  be  remembered  in  their  prayers ; 
and  the  sick-cup  which  I  had  purchased  for  them  to 
drink  from  when  lying  down  was  promised  to  be  kept 
in  a  prominent  place  as  a  memento  of  their  "stranger 
friend." 

The  mother  awaited  me  in  the  next  room.  With  both 
hands  extended,  as  I  entered  she  took  mine,  and  drew 
them  to  her  lips.  "  When  you  become  a  parent,"  she 
said,  "you  will  feel  the  strength  of  my  gratitude  for 
your  kindness  to  myself  and  family." 

I  hurried  away,  and  drove  rapidly  to  other  patients, 
to  shake  off  the  load  upon  my  heart. 

Ten  years  afterward,  on  a  visit  to  Mobile,  I  visited 
the  spot,  and  made  inquiries  for  this  family.  I  was 
informed  that  two  years  after  I  left  they  set  out  for 
Texas. 

To  the  thoughtful  reflections  of  a  wise  and  prosper- 
ous prince,  whose  sajdngs  are  studded  with  brilliants,  I 
am  indebted  for  one  to  convey  my  own  conviction  of  its 
truth,  "  That  it  is  letter  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than 
to  the  house  of  feasting.^'  Not  in  the  ascetic  sense,  that 
the  indulgence  of  mirth  or  the  innocent  enjojrments  of 
life  should  be  excluded ;  not  that  we  should  wrap  our- 
selves in  sackcloth  to  propitiate  the  Being  of  Beings,  but 
"  the  heart  is  made  letter  hy  the  sadness  of  the  countenance ^^^ 
and  in  feeling  for  the  distresses  of  others  we  are  more 
prone  to  advance  the  sum  of  human  happiness  by  re- 
lieving them. 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN.  66 


CHAPTER  lY. 

Close  of  our  Labors  at  Mobile. — Illness  of  the  Members. — Pascagoula. 
— Its  Sick. — Ship  and  Typhoid  Fever  in  New  Orleans,  1847. — Hospi- 
tals crowded. — Liberality  of  the  Citizens  toward  the  Howard  Associ- 
tion. — A  Cholera  Case. — Physic,  Physicians,  and  Quacks. 

We  had  become  so  methodically  organized  for  all 
purposes  of  relief,  and  in  a  short  time  so  generally 
known  to  the  inhabitants,  that  there  was  no  instance  of 
oversight  or  neglect  to  any  in  need  of  our  services. 
During  our  sojourn  in  Mobile  we  had  taxed  our  ener- 
gies to  their  utmost  tension.  One  by  one  of  my  associ- 
ates were  leaving,  happily  able  to  place  their  patients  in 
the  charge  of  the  "Can't  Get  Away  Club."  As  I  had 
notified  my  intention  of  departing  for  home  the  next 
day,  I  paid  my  last  visits  with  a  member  of  this  club. 
It  is,  I  believe,  a  punishment  of  criminals  in  China  to 
prevent  them  from  sleeping  until  the  excess  of  watch- 
fulness produces  insanity.  •  Those  who  have  experienced 
the  prostration  to  the  nervous  system  consequent  upon 
protracted  loss  of  repose  will  at  once  admit  the  possibil- 
ity of  such  a  result ;  and,  if  added  to  this,  irregularity 
of  habit  in  eating,  producing  dyspepsia,  and  the  neces- 
sity for  the  use  of  stimulants,  it  will  reach  the  certainty, 
exemplified  in  the  similar  wanderings  and  imbecility  of 
the  pitiful  sufferer  from  delirium  tremens.  At  noon  of 
this  day  I  was  sitting  in  our  office  at  the  hotel,  when  of 
a  sudden  a  faintness  came  over  me,  succeeded  by  a  blind- 
ness to  all  objects  around,  and  a  most  painful  nausea.  I 
staggered  to  the  sofa.  Fortunately,  our  physician  was 
near  by.  I  was  assisted  up  stairs  and  laid  on  a  bed, 
feeling  as  weak  and  powerless  as  if  just  raised  from  a 


66  DIABY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

prolonged  sickness.  The  doctor,  who  was  no  disciple 
of  homoeopatliy,  but  believed  in  the  simple  principle  that 
a  greater  will  absorb  a  less,  or  that  a  burnt  finger  is  re- 
lieved by  being  held  to  a  flame,  jocosely  remarked  to 
me  something  about  the  hair  of  the  dog  being  the  cure 
for  its  bite,  and  that,  in  my  case,  the  excitement  in  my 
nervous  sj^stem  would  rapidly  succumb  to  a  stimulating 
potion.  This  he  directed  me  to  continue  every  hour 
in  moderation  until  I  arrived  at  Pascagoula.  At  that 
time  the  mail-boat  from  New  Orleans  had  ceased  to  run 
farther  than  Pascagoula,  from  whence  the  mails  and 
passengers  were  conveyed  over  by  land  to  Mobile. 

For  the  first  time  since  I  had  been  away  a  host  of  fears 
sjDrung  up  within  me.  It  can  not  properly  be  said  that 
one  fears  death  until  the  danger  is  immediate.  Such  a 
fear  possessed  me  then,  which  was  made  more  painful 
from  the  misery  of  being  sick  far  from  my  family  and 
friends.  The  hour  for  the  stage-coach  to  dr:\irt  at 
length  arrived ;  with  an  adieu  to  all,  I  entered,  and  dis- 
covered that  I  was  the  only  passenger.  In  an  hour 
after  I  found  myself  obliged  to  hold  vigorously  to  the 
strap  which  crossed  the  inside  of  the  coach,  and  with 
difficulty  maintaining  my  seat,  while  the  horses  were 
dashing  furiously  with  their  light  load  over  a  corduroy 
road,  famous  for  being  unsur]3assed  by  any  in  the  South 
for  the  irregularity  of  its  construction.  For  fifteen  min- 
utes after  I  arrived  at  Pascagoula  I  was  so  debilitated 
as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  stand.  My  bones  felt  shatter- 
ed and  dislocated.  Yet  did  the  refreshing  sea-breeze 
soon  produce  its  invigorating  effects. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  walk  to  the  boat,  which  lay, 
with  steam  up,  at  the  end  of  the  long  wharf.  Afraid  of 
the  consequences  of  such  an  efibrt  without  support,  I 
approached  the  hotel  for  assistance.  To  my  surprise, 
not  a  moving  soul  was  to  be  seen  except  a  female  form, 
that  flitted  from  one  door  to  the  next  on  the  upper  bal- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  67 

cony.  As  I  readied  the  open  doors  in  face  of  the  steps, 
the  story  spoke  for  itself.  On  a  square  dining-table  lay 
two  coffins,  with  burning  candles  around,  and  a  negro 
as  watcher  nodding  in  unconsciousness.  He  told  me 
these  were  two  of  the  dead  of  that  day ;  that  six  had 
been  buried  the  day  before,  and  that  fifteen  or  eighteen 
were  "  down  with  the  yellow  fever." 

The  visitors  at  the  hotel  consisted  of  Mobilians  who 
had  fled  their  city  to  escape  its  present  calamity.  The 
fullest  reliance  was  counted  upon  an  exemption  from  it 
here,  as  the  location  stands  prominent  in  the  Gulf,  and 
is  backed  by  the  health-restoring  pine  forests.  What, 
though,  has  been  written  of  the  plague  at  Constantino- 
ple, that  no  native  of  an  infected  town,  though  he  was 
in  a  region  distant  from  the  infection,  found  any  advant- 
age in  changing  the  climate,  applies  equally  to  this  char- 
acteristic disease.  It  was  noted  that  such  a  one  was 
singled  out  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  former  distemper  which 
raged  among  his  countrymen,  as  if  the  seeds  of  the  dis- 
ease were  latent  for  a  long  period  back,  and  waited  but 
the  process  of  time  any  where  to  be  developed. 

The  hotel  had  been  so  crowded  that  beds  were  placed 
in  the  passage-ways  to  accommodate  all.  Now  death 
had  reduced  the  number  to  one  half  of  what  the  hotel 
generally  received.  Not  encountering  host  or  clerk,  I 
unceremoniously  walked  up  stairs,  and  into  the  rooms 
where  were  some  unattended  sick.  Many  a  one,  I  have 
no  doubt,  sympathized  with  me  in  having  fallen  into 
Charybdis.  I  found  myself,  though,  in  my  element,  and 
at  home. 

An  imexpected  opening  of  a  new  field  roused  my  dor- 
mant energies.  I  told  several,  what  I  had  done,  what  I 
could  do,  and  found  myself,  while  speaking  of  it,  admin- 
istering to  their  wants.  Nurses  were  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  village,  for  miles  back,  had  been  ransacked 
for  assistance,  but  terror  of  the  fever,  like  the  alarm  of 


68  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

the  rattlesnake,  warned  against  approach.  I  restored 
much  confidence  to  those  not  yet  sick  by  the  informa- 
tion that  the  epidemic  was  rapidly  abating  in  Mobile,  a 
frost  having  fallen,  too,  at  Spring  Hill,  and  that  it  had 
disappeared  from  New  Orleans.  Many  took  the  sugges- 
tion, and  departed  immediately  for  the  one  or  other  city. 
The  proprietor  led  me  to  the  different  sick-beds,  where 
I  inspired  hopes  which,  I  am  sure,  from  the  desire  ex- 
pressed that  I  should  revisit  them,  was  an  element  of 
good  to  them.  To  one  I  suggested  a  relief;  to  another 
I  applied  topical  palliatives ;  and  to  all  something.  In 
this  way  I  passed  the  time  until  after  midnight. 

All  the  boarders  had  the  benefit  of  the  successful  ex- 
j^erience  of  Dr.  D.,  of  Philadelphia  repute,  but  long  a 
resident  practitioner  of  Mobile.  Out  of  his  family,  who 
were  with  him,  he  had  lost,  the  previous  week,  a  lovely 
daughter.  God  knows  what  a  miserable  fate  would 
have  been  that  of  the  inmates  had  he  not  been  present. 
Pascagoula,  besides  being  famed  in  legendary  lore  for 
the  self-immolation  of  the  whole  tribe  of  Indians  so 
named,  who  preferred  to  plunge  themselves  in  the  ad- 
joining river  and  be  extinct  rather  than  undergo  the 
tortures  of  a  pursuing  enemy,  would  have  had  another 
reminiscence  of  distress  and  desolation,  of  which  the 
mournful  tones*  that  issue  from  the  river  at  night  would 
have  been  a  fitting  chant,  had  not  this  benevolent  and 
able  physician  been  present  to  stay  the  fury  of  the  de- 
stroyer. 

*  All  visitors  at  this  fashionable  summer  resort  have  listened  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night  to  these  yet  unaccounted-for  sounds,  imitative  of 
the  strumming  of  harps.  Many  have  endeavored  to  explain  them  as 
produced  by  the  undulation  of  gentle  breezes  through  the  bordering 
flags.  Others  have  attributed  them  to  the  plaintive  cries  of  the  croco- 
dile, or  to  a  subdued  sound  common  to  the  drum-fish.  But,  as  all  these 
van-  in  measure  and  intensity,  and  the  former  is  uniform  and  inaudible 
when  more  than  a  ripple  ruflfles  the  suiface  of  the  water,  superstition 
clings  to  the  traditionary  cause. 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  69 

As  1  felt  invigorated  from  the  stay  I  made  at  this 
place,  I  deferred  my  departure  until  the  next  evening. 
The  same  routine  of  duties  as  elsewhere  occupied  me 
during  the  time.  The  succeeding  day  I  was  at  home, 
and  for  five  days  was  confined  to  the  house  with  a  se- 
vere bilious  attack.  By  this  time  all  my  associates  had 
returned,  leaving  some  of  the  nurses  and  our  physician. 
The  latter  had  been  prevailed  upon  to  remain  with  the 
inducement  of  a  profitable  practice.  He  became  much 
beloved  for  his  courteous  demeanor,  social  qualities,  and 
professional  skill,  and  remained  there  many  years,  finish- 
ing his  career  in  New  Orleans,  where  he  died  about  ten 
3^ears  after. 

All  the  funds  given  to  us  at  our  departure  had  been 
expended.  Numerous  bills  were  necessarily  run  up,  in- 
volving us  in  a  debt  which  it  was  well  was  assumed  by 
the  city  of  Mobile,  for  otherwise,  as  our  authorities  had 
withheld  appropriations  from  the  society,  the  members 
individually  would  have  been  taxed. 

That  season  closed  the  existence  and  labors  of  the 
Samaritan  Association,  dispersing  its  members  with  val- 
uable experience  for  the  sick-room  of  their  friends  or 
families,  or  for  future  service  in  the  ranks  of  the  HoW' 
ard  Association,  which  still  kept  up  its  organization. 

When  our  little  party  encountered  each  other  from 
time  to  time  after,  we  talked  over  the  good  we  had  done 
with  so  little  injury  to  ourselves,  though  several  de- 
ceived themselves ;  for,  as  one  by  one  paid  the  forfeit  of 
overtaxed  powers,  they  traced  their  premature  fate  more 
or  less  to  a  sickness  immediately  consequent  upon  their 
return. 

Four  only  of  that  delegation  to  Mobile  survive. 

From  the  year  1839  to  1847,  the  epidemics  which 
prevailed  in  Kew  Orleans  were  of  a  manageable  type, 
bearing  more  the  character  of  remittent,  intermittent, 
and  bilious  in  their  symptoms,  than  of  pure  yellow  fever. 


70  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Less  fatality  accompanying  these,  there  was,  of  course, 
less  distress.  The  hospitals  being  commodious  enough 
to  accommodate  the  poor  sick,  there  was  no  need  of  the 
associations,  except  to  relieve  the  wants  of  convalescents 
or  their  families,  and  to  provide  for  the  widows  and 
orphans.  In  the  month  of  April,  1847,  the  emigrant 
population  exceeded  that  of  any  previous  year.  The 
anxiety  to  reach  this  country,  after  the  severities  of 
famine,  forced  them  to  take  the  first  chance  for  passage, 
and,  in  almost  every  instance,  ships  arrived  burdened 
with  more  than  the  number  of  passengers  allowed  by 
law.  They  were,  of  course,  subject  to  the  diseases  conse- 
quent upon  a  corrupted  and  close  atmosphere.  Ship 
and  typhoid  fever  owe  their  origin  to  this  cause.  The 
reports  on  every  arrival  gave  a  large  proportion  of 
deaths  on  the  voyage.  The  survivors,  debihtated  by 
short  rations  of  food  and  water,  arriving  in  a  climate  so 
different  from  that  they  had  left,  under  any  circum- 
stances should  have  exercised  prudence  in  their  food 
and  cleanliness  in  their  habits,  to  ward  off  the  diseases 
of  this  latitude ;  instead  of  which,  they  indulged  to  ex- 
cess in  cheap  fruits,  and  hoveled  together  in  damp  and 
unwholesome  locahties.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
hospital  doors  were  shut  to  the  reception  of  more  pa- 
tients. The  Young  Men's  Howard  Society,  which  had 
retained  its  organization,  was  called  together  to  meet  the 
emergency.  A  constitution  and  by-laws  were  adopted, 
and  they  became  incorporated  by  an  act  of  the  Legisla- 
ture under  the  style  of  the  Howard  Association. 

Yellow  fever  was  a  specialty  with  us,  and  fraught 
with  no  danger.  To  linger  in  the  infectious  atmosphere 
of  ship  and  typhoid  fever,  or  brave  the  contact  of  chol- 
era, c'etoit  toute  autre  chose.  The  citizens,  however,  looked 
to  us  alone  to  avert  or  mitigate  the  suffering  reported  in 
every  quarter.  Proud  of  our  selection  in  a  forlorn  hope, 
we  set  about  it  without  thought  of  personal  risk.     The 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  71 

fact  that  we  were  prepared  for  such  duty  was  announced 
in  the  daily  papers ;  donations  were  called  for,  and  in 
ten  hours  after  our  office  was  opened  $8000  had  been 
received  in  the  treasury. 

It  is  unfair  to  be  invidious  in  remarks  of  the  benevo- 
lence of  any  one  people  over  another,  yet  I  must  say, 
from  experience,  that  the  benevolence  of  the  people  of 
New  Orleans  can  not  be  exceeded  by  that  of  any  com- 
munity in  the  world.  There  may  not  be  as  frequent  or 
large  bequests  as  elsewhere  from  flinty -hearted  old  fel- 
lows, who,  while  living,  would  thrust  a  suppliant  tenant, 
with  her  children,  in  the  street  for  inability  to  pay  a 
monthly  due,  or,  when  they  can  no  longer  enjoy  their 
wealth,  are  suddenly  possessed  with  the  vanity  of  fame, 
and,  overlooking  their  poor  kindred,  make  a  forced  heir 
of  charity  in  the  endowment  of  religious  institutions. 
Whatever  good  may  result  from  the  latter,  as  Paddy 
says,  "there's  no  thanks  to  them;"  no  gratitude,  as  the 
giver  experienced  no  pleasure  in  his  donation.  But  the 
charity  of  our  people  is  ever  active.  You  may  stop 
nine  men  out  of  ten  you  meet  in  the  street  who  will 
lend  a  willing  ear  to  an  appeal  for  relief.  Such  charity 
is  true  charity ;  spontaneous,  not  calculating ;  resembling 
the  gift  of  Abel — ^from  the  heart,  pure  and  sincere.  It 
is,  as  I  have  said  before,  self-rewarding,  as  are  other 
virtues.  Howard  did  not  calculate  for  notoriety  or  com- 
pensation in  his  world-renowned  active  benevolence  to 
the  poor  and  degraded  of  foreign  climes.  Massillon  did 
not  claim  heaven  as  a  reward  for  his  enthusiastic  piety. 
Nor  did  Washington  bargain  for  fame  with  a  patriotism 
not  vaunted  to  the  public  gaze.  Men  saw  but  the  outer 
expression,  judged  only  the  results,  and  envied  their 
fame  without  appreciating  the  inward  satisfaction  from 
their  acts;  for,  as  stolen  pleasures  are  said  to  be  the 
sweetest,  great  also  is  the  charm  of  unseen  charity, 
whose  worshipers  nurse  their  acts  with  a  miser's  care, 


72  DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

and  enjoy  them  in  secret,  "  like  a  sweet  morsel  under 
the  tongue." 

The  number  of  members  of  the  Howard  Association 
was  limited  to  thirty.  A  due  proportion  was  allotted  to 
each  municipality,  who  were  again  districted  off.  Pla- 
cards at  the  corners  of  streets  and  advertisements  in  the 
daily  papers  gave  the  residence  of  each  member.  On 
the  first  evening  of  organization,  an  apphcation  was 
made,  in  full  assembly,  for  a  nurse,  and  for  our  super- 
vision of  a  case  of  cholera  in  a  boarding-house  on  Poy- 
dras  Street.  Few  of  us  having  seen  a  case  of  cholera,  and 
none  experienced  in  the  treatment  of  it,  there  was  difS.- 
dence,  if  not  apprehension,  in  undertaking  the  charge  of 
the  first  applicant.  Another  member  and  myself  called 
at  the  residence  of  the  patient. 

The  landlady,  being  much  distressed  at  the  stampede 
which  occurred  in  her  house  immediately  on  its  being 
known  that  the  cholera  was  on  her  premises,  was  de- 
lighted to  see  us,  and  pointed  to  us  the  chamber  where- 
in the  patient  lay.  The  room,  which  was  barely  large 
enough  to  hold  a  single  bedstead,  a  table,  and  two  chairs, 
had  a  window  in  dangerous  proximity  for  an  invalid 
left  alone  with  a  disease  where  insanity  or  delirium  usu- 
ally sets  in.  The  sufferer  was  a  man  of  large  frame, 
and  was  stretched  on  the  bed,  stripped  of  covering.  As 
we  entered,  he  was  imbibing  from  a  bottle  what  we  dis- 
covered afterward  to  be  undiluted  brandy.  Several 
empty  phials,  the  contents  of  which,  from  the  labels  on 
them,  must  have  given  him  a  distaste  for  life,  were  scat- 
tered on  the  table.  We  told  him  the  object  of  our  vis- 
it.    His  response  was, 

"Where  is  Dr.  ?  where  is  Mr. ,  and  Mr. 

?"  repeating  name  after  name  of  his  friends ;  then 

turning  to  us,  "  Who  told  you  to  come  here?  What  do 
you  want  here?  Clear  out^  Gr — d  d — n  you !  Are  you 
going  to  take  my  measure  before  I'm  dead  ?"    These  and 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  73 

many  more  remarks,  rounded  off  with  the  vocabulary 
of  oaths  against  his  friends  and  the  household  who  had 
deserted  him,  were  uttered  in  such  rapid  succession  as  to 
give  us  no  time  "  to  edge  a  word  in  sideways."  He  final- 
ly exhausted  himself,  asked  for  "ice,"  then  for  "bran- 
dy." As  I  was  about  pouring  the  latter  in  a  glass,  he 
snatched  the  bottle  from  me  and  exhausted  its  contents. 
I  had  seen  cholera  treated  in  previous  years,  and  did 
not  count  upon  any  ill  results  from  this  indulgence,  as 
there  is  no  perceptible  effect  on  the  brain  from  strong 
drink  in  this  disease.  On  the  contrary,  it  has  been  as- 
serted that,  where  intoxication  has  been  produced,  the 
most  favorable  results  have  shown  themselves.  I  put 
more  faith,  though,  in  the  constrictive  property  of  ice, 
and  as  long  as  it  was  agreeable  I  never  checked  the  in- 
dulgence. We  had  ordered  a  mustard-bath  to  be  pre- 
pared, and  were  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  cata- 
plasms for  the  cramps  he  complained  of  in  his  stomach, 
when  of  a  sudden,  in  one  volume,  he  threw  up  what  he 
had  been  drinking,  and  shortly  afterward  the  rice-water 
evacuations  ran  from  him.  "Without  a  physician,  and 
no  instructions  how  to  act,  but  knowing  that  something 
must  be  done  to  alleviate  pain,  if  not  to  remove  the 
cause  of  it,  we  applied  a  cataplasm  to  his  epigastrium 
and  wrists,  rolled  up  our  sleeves,  and  ffictioned  his  limbs 
with  our  hands  in  a  hot  mustard-bath,  when,  in  about 
fifteen  minutes,  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  a 
genial  warmth  on  the  surface  of  his  body,  and  arterial 
action  established.  We  now  wrapped  him  well  in  blank- 
ets. Overpowered  by  spasmodic  and  mental  excite- 
ment, he  lay  composed,  as  if  desirous  to  sleep.  In  a 
weak  voice  he  directed  us  to  give  him  a  tablespoonful 
of  a  confection  in  a  phial  on  the  table,  upon  taking  which 
he  inclined  his  head  in  acknowledgment  of  our  atten- 
tions, and  quietly  slept.  When  we  first  entered  the 
room  we  were  struck  with  the  deathlike  expression  of 

D 


74  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

his  sunken  features;  perspiration  now  stood  upon  his 
forehead,  and  a  glow  suffused  his  countenance.  We  re- 
mained by  his  side  for  more  than  an  hour,  while  he 
slept.  By  that  time  his  pulse  had  risen  to  sixty,  and  his 
whole  frame  was  in  profuse  perspiration.  After  a  little 
while  he  awoke,  and  asked  for  ice.  He  expressed  him- 
self free  from  pain,  except  from  the  blistering  of  the 
cataplasms,  which  we  took  off,  substituting  for  them  the 
usual  oiled  linen.  A  nausea  set  in,  for  which,  at  his 
suggestion,  we  administered  several  spoonfuls  of  brandy 
at  intervals.  As  he  now  required  only  the  attention  of 
one  of  us,  my  associate  left  me  to  carry  the  patient 
through,  or  until  relieved  by  his  friends  or  the  physician 
in  the  morning. 

The  patient  proved  himself  to  be  a  milder-mannered 
man  than  I  judged  on  first  acquaintance.  Upon  in- 
quiry, he  told  me  that  he  was  on  a  business  visit  to  the 
city ;  that  he  resided  in  Georgia,  where  he  left  a  large 
family,  whose  injunctions  against,  and  fears  of,  coming 
here  he  would  not  listen  to. 

"ISTow,"  said  he,  "when  a  man  most  wants  the  pres- 
ence of  family  or  friends,  I  am  deserted  by  the  latter  to 
die  like  a  dog." 

"Not  entirety,"  I  replied. 

"  Far  from  it,  my  friend,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression ;  for  I  have  found  in  you  and  3^our  companion 
an  instance  of  heroism  which  shall  always  endear  me  to 
you,  and  which  will  give  me  a  better  opinion  than  I 
have  entertained  of  mankind.  But,  tell  me,  who  sent 
you  here,  and  why  are  you  not  afraid  of  the  disease?" 

I  explained  the  objects  of  the  association,  adding  that, 
independent  of  this  consideration,  on  account  of  the  fears 
that  I  really  entertained  of  this  disease,  I  thought  the 
likeliest  way  to  combat  them  was  to  face  it,  and  familiar- 
ize myself  with  the  danger. 

It  is  a  popular  delusion  that  physicians  and  nurses  are 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  75 

providentially  exempt  from  contagious  diseases,  while 
the  danger  to  healthy  persons  in  visiting  the  sick-rooms 
is  much  aggravated.  Health  is  as  repulsive  of  disease 
as  disorganization  is  inviting  to  it.  Unless  there  is  a 
predisposition  for  a  contagious  disease  from  the  latter, 
or,  most  of  all,  from  fear,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion, 
from  observation,  that  a  gradual  familiarity  to  its  influ- 
ence lessens  the  liabihty  to  it,  and  dissipates  the  fear  of 
it.  How  often  do  we  notice  that  the  scratch  of  a  needle 
on  an  apparently  healthy  person  has  passed  from  the 
different  stages  of  inflammation  into  gangrene  and  death, 
while  another,  of  a  temperament  and  frame  more  invit- 
ing from  appearances  to  a  fatal  result,  has  recovered 
from  a  thousand-fold  worse  infliction ! 

My  patient  informed  me  of  the  names  of  his  friends, 
and  gave  me  such  other  information  that,  if  an  untoward 
event  happened  to  him,  his  effects  would  be  taken  care 
of  for  his  family. 

At  midnight  he  had  a  return  of  cramps  and  renewed 
purging.  By  manipulations,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  I 
corrected  the  first,  and  by  an  enema  checked  the  lat- 
ter. During  the  whole  time  he  was  full  of  anecdotes 
bearing  upon  the  nature  of  my  duties  and  his  sensa- 
tions, and  thus  an  hour  glibly  passed  away. 

In  an  unlucky  moment,  the  duty  presented  itself  to 
me  to  hasten  home  for  a  few  minutes,  and,  by  apprising 
my  family  where  I  was,  to  allay  any  anxiety  which  they 
properly  had  of  me  in  remaining  out  so  late  in  such 
troublous  times,  as  well,  also,  to  watch  against  any 
home-intrusion  of  the  disease.  I  called  the  landlady  to 
me,  who  promised  that  a  servant  should  remain  with 
the  patient  until  my  return,  and  that  he  should  be  prop- 
erly cared  for. 

I  had  not  been  absent  half  an  hour,  when,  hastily 
mounting  the  steps,  I  read  in  the  lugubrious  face  of  the 
landlady,  with  her  upheld  arms,  my  worst  apprehen- 


76  DIARY  OF  A  SAilARITAN. 

sions.  On  entering  the  bedroom  they  were  realized. 
The  explanation  was  simple.  One  of  his  friends,  whose 
compunctions  of  conscience  for  neglecting  a  stranger  and 
a  friend  did  not  permit  him  to  sleep,  and  whose  fears 
allowed  him  to  indulge  no  farther  than  to  make  inqui- 
ries at  the  door,  had  consulted  with  a  jDhysician,  who  im- 
pressed him  with  the  belief  that  cholera  succumbed 
alone  to  his  mode  of  treatment.  Thej  entered  the  room 
a  few  minutes  after  I  left.  On  diagnosing,  or  examin- 
ing the  patient,  the  physician  pronounced  the  disease 
rapidly  "  resolving  itself  into  a  congestion" — such  was 
reported  to  me  by  the  landlady — and  forthwith  dragged 
the  covering  from  him.  The  servant  was  sent  for  an 
additional  quantity  of  ice,  and,  having  made  some  wa- 
ter as  cold  as  it  could  be  made,  he  sprinkled  it  over  the 
patient;  then,  with  a  sheet,  which  had  likewise  been 
saturated,  he  enveloped  his  body,  overwrapped  him  with 
blankets,  and,  with  arms  folded,  watched  for  that  reac- 
tion in  the  sick  man's  system  which  was  to  prove  his 
darling  theory.  In  ten  minutes  collapse  set  in,  and  the 
Greorgian  was  a  corpse. 

I  did  not  select  words  to  express  my  horror,  contempt, 
and  indignation  at  such  barbarity  and  ignorance.  Mind 
you,  I  do  not  say  that  the  aforesaid  treatment  may  not 
be  in  the  books ;  for  my  experience  has  shown  me  that 
the  imagination  of  man  has  not  conceived  or  dreamed 
of  such  contradictions  as  an  outsider  like  myself  can  not 
fail  to  be  impressed  of  in  the  treatment  by  homoeopathy 
and  allopathy ;  but  I  had  marked  the  progress  of  cure 
in  the  treatment  which  had  been  commenced  with  him, 
and  which  was  successfully  carried  out  in  subsequent 
cases.  When  I  reported  the  particulars  of  this  case  the 
next  day  to  the  association,  the  general  response  was  to 
publish  the  name  of  the  physician  and  the  particulars ; 
yet,  as  I  have  just  said,  to  continue  such  a  course  would 
have  involved  us  in  as  many  controversies  as  there  were 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  77 

theories  of  cure.  Happily,  pressed  with  engagements, 
we  passed  it  over,  and,  as  we  grew  more  experienced, 
wisely  concluded  to  follow  a  physician's  treatment  and 
his  orders  without  feeling  responsibility  for  consequences. 

In  this  disease,  as  in  all  others  of  epidemic  character, 
the  unanimity  of  the  faculty  is  akin  to  that  harmony 
produced  by  each  instrument  in  an  orchestra  going  it  on 
its  own  hook  without  regard  to  the  score ;  yet  never  was 
a  practice  devised  that  has  not  been  marked  with  some 
success,  and  which,  in  the  opinion  of  its  learned  advo- 
cates, should  not  supersede  all  others ;  though,  if  the 
truth  be  known,  the  secret  of  success  lies  sometimes  in 
the  harmlessness  of  a  supposed  irritant,  but  oftener  in 
the  confidence  of  the  patient  in  his  physician,  and  the 
hope  inspired  by  a  reputation  for  professional  skill ;  "for 
the  prestige  of  success  insures  success." 

The  human  stomach  is  the  laboratory  into  which  min- 
eral and  vegetable  compounds,  insulting,  foreign,  and 
nauseating  to  every  sense,  and  sometimes  antagonistic  in 
their  properties,  are  thrown  by  the  scientific  manipula- 
tor, to  produce  that  ignis  fatiius  of  alchemy,  the  philos- 
opher's stone,  or  prolongation  of  life.  It  is  a  dispute 
whether  a  little  more  or  a  little  less  would  have  perfect- 
ed the  experiment.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  operator 
that  he  can  not  keep  up  the  perpetual  motion  of  life ;  it 
is  the  stubbornness  of  the  compounds  to  assimilate  to 
the  necessity  of  the  case ;  for  it  will  not  be  yielded  by 
the  student  of  the  Pharmacopoeia  that  its  principles  are 
not  applicable  to  every  case,  and  as  fixed  and  resultant 
as  that  light  displaces  darkness. 

Unity  in  medicine,  though,  may  as  well  be  looked  for 
as  unity  in  religion ;  both  intend  the  same  result  in  their 
contradictions,  and  it  is  but  charitable  to  infer  that  one 
is  as  useful  to  man  as  the  other  is  acceptable  in  the  eyes 
of  God. 

To  listen  to  one  physician  expatiating  upon  the  charm- 


78  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

ing  virtues  of  sulphate  of  quinine ;  to  hear  another  pro- 
nounce it  most  poisonous  in  its  uses ;  one  as  enthusiast- 
ic as  the  other  is  denunciatory,  and  both,  in  other  re- 
spects, awarded  by  their  peers  the  front  rank  of  the  pro- 
fession, is,  messieurs  les  docteurs^  to  us  funny  outsiders,  a 
glaring  eccentricity  of  genius,  if  not  a  positive  conviction 
that  you.  seek 

By  yoiu-  controversies  to  lessen 
The  dignity  of  your  profession. 

The  public  cares  little  whether  Dr.  Sangrado  is  pitied  by 
Dr.  Bolus,  or  if  Dr.  Allopathy  sneers  at  Dr.  Homoeopathy. 
Dr.  Hj^dropathy  and  Dr.  Easpail  may  excuse  themselves 
by  saying  that  it  is  the  disease  which  kills,  and  not  their 
treatment.  This  progressive  age  is  opposed  to  the  prej- 
udices of  education,  and  will  always  estimate  and  appre- 
ciate the  pioneer  in  physic  or  in  science,  who,  throwing 
books  aside,  without  envy  walks  through  the  academic 
grove,  culling  by  the  wayside  the  flowers  of  new  growth, 
and,  well  scanning  the  properties  of  a  vaunted  exotic, 
adapts  the  innovation,  if  useful. 

Envy  of  talent  is  a  step  in  progress,  and,  as  such,  is 
commendable.  Every  physician  is  ambitious  to  be  in 
the  van,  and  to  invite  notice  by  a  startling  theory.  This 
he  no  sooner  grasps  than  he  is  beset  with  immitigated 
aspersions.  Were  the  public  capable  of  judging  between 
the  contestants,  it  would  be  well  enough,  but  the  effect 
of  the  warfare  is  to  inspire  a  doubt  of  the  capacity  of  both. 

With  all  their  animosities  to  each  oilier^  however,  as  a 
class  and  as  a  profession,  "  they  are  the  noblest  Eomans 
of  them  all."  Who  as  ready  to  give  their  hours  of  rest, 
without  pay,  to  suffering  humanity  ?  It  is  the  only  pro- 
fession or  pursuit  where  brains,  and  time,  and  dear- 
bought  skill  are  so  disproportionately  recompensed  for 
the  service  given.  The  clergyman,  who  onl}^  points  the 
way,  and  teaches  how  to  reach  heaven,  is  paid  according 
to  his  talent  to  persuade  rich  men  that  it  is  as  "  facile  as 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  79 

it  is  for  a  -pig  to  whistle"  to  enter  tliat  abode,  despite  the 
allegory  of  the  camel  passing  through  the  eye  of  a  nee- 
dle. The  lawyer  graduates  his  fee  to  the  amount  in- 
volved, play  or  pay.  See,  now,  the  surgeon,  who  by 
skillful  hand  saves  a  limb,  which  the  possessor  would 
give  thousands  to  recover  if  lost;  and  the  physician,  who 
snatches,  by  a  timely  application,  the  patient  from  an  in- 
evitable death,  which  rather  than  meet,  the  last  of  his 
treasure  would  be  promised ;  what  is  their  pay — their 
recompense  ?  A  trifle  compared  to  the  service  perform- 
ed, and  begrudgingly  given.  How  seldom  is  that  serv- 
ice so  much  estimated  that  the  generosity  of  the  relieved 
induces  him  to  give  more  than  in  such  cases  "stipulated 
in  the  bond"  of  custom ! 

With  all  the  drawbacks  to  advancement  in  wealth, 
the  secret  yet  undeveloped  is,  wherefore  the  continual 
accession  to  their  number,  overspreading  the  land  like 
the  locusts  in  Egypt.  Is  it  the  fascination  of  good  com- 
pany, the  love  of  "chimeras  wild,"  in  which  there  is 
more  pleasure  in  the  pursuit  than  in  the  possession  ?  or 
is  it  for  the  respect,  the  esteem,  and  the  confidence  in 
which  they  are  held  by  all  men  for  the  honorable  and 
charitable  character  of  its  members  ? 

In  my  commendation  I  allude  not  to  charlatans  or 
quacks,  imitators  of  other  men's  stuffs  with  hydra-head- 
ed pretensions,  their  saddle-bags 

"Keplete  with  strange  hermetic  powder, 
That  wounds  nine  miles,  point-blank,  would  solder," 

nor  of  the  exceptionals  alluded  to  by  Yriarte  in  the  mor- 
al to  his  fable  of  the  ass  and  the  flute : 

"Borroquitos  hay 
Que  una  vcz  aciertan 
For  casualidad." 

Such  are  those  that  wring  the  last  dollar  from  suffering 
humanity  in  advance  of  every  service  performed,  and, 
when  no  more  can  be  exacted,  abandon  them  for  nature 


80  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

to  do  the  rest.  No  greater  enemies  had  we  to  contend 
with  than  this  latter  class.  They  thrust  themselves  upon 
our  acceptance  by  a  disinterested  offer  of  their  services. 
Their  zeal  and  activity  induced  our  confidence,  and  not 
until  the  close  of  an  epidemic  did  we  become  fully  ap- 
prised of  the  tricks  they  used  to  aggrandize  themselves. 
If  they  did  not  succeed  in  obtaining  money  from  our 
patients,  they  would  divide  with  the  apothecary  the  bill 
of  expensive  prescriptions. 

Much  of  the  mortality  in  our  epidemics  is  due  to  the 
ignorance  of  the  unparchmented  pretenders  in  physic. 
The  law  does  not  allow  every  man  to  be  his  own  law- 
yer, though  no  more  than  common  sense  may  be  re- 
quired in  ninety -nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred ;  nor  does 
it  patent  a  man's  capacity  to  make  his  own  shoes,  yet  it 
paradoxically  hangs  for  murder,  and  licenses  unques- 
tioned pretenders  to  deal  out  poisons  by  the  grain  or 
ounce.  It  is  reasonable  to  hope  from  our  legislators 
that,  if  life  is  valuable  enoiigh  to  be  protected  by  penal- 
ties from  the  knife  of  the  murderer  or  the  carelessness 
of  the  engineer,  it  should  be  as  well  guarded  by  requir- 
ing a  discrimination  between  a  load  that  will  effectually 
reach  its  object  and  a  load  that  will  explode.  In  other 
words,  if  laudanum,  quinine,  strychnine,  veratrum  viride, 
and  such  like  counterirritants  (poisons  in  multo,  and 
curatives  in  parvo),  are  allowed  to  be  used,  the  dose 
should  be  restricted  by  law,  and  heavy  penalties  enforced 
upon  the  experimental  murderer. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAl^.  81 


CHAPTER  V. 

Pest-spots. — Treatment  of  the  poor  Sick. — Advantages  of  the  Howard 
Association. — The  Scotch  and  Irish. 

The  day  following  tliat  of  my  first  cliolera  case  I 
walked  througli  tlie  part  of  the  municipality  allotted  to 
me,  to  discover  what  progress  the  disease  was  making, 
to  note  its  localities,  and  th.e  condition  of  the  afflicted. 
The  apothecaries,  who  are  always  sure  guides  to  neigh- 
boring sick,  directed  me  to  two  nests  of  ship  fever  and 
cholera,  which  of  themselves  I  found  sufflcient  to  occu- 
py my  tima  and  sympathies.  One  was  amid  the  crowd- 
ed divisions  of  the  old  German  Theatre  on  Magazine 
Street ;  the  other  in  a  row  of  one  story  attic  brick  tene- 
ments, built  on  one  side  of  a  lot  fronting  St.  Thomas 
Street,  and  running  back  150  feet.  The  former  was  oc- 
cupied by  emigrant  German  and  Scotch  mechanics  and 
laborers,  with  the  proverbial  number  of  children ;  the 
latter  by  Irish  and  English  emigrants.  In  the  one  was 
indigence,  with  quiet,  and  a  show  of  order  and  cleanh- 
ness ;  in  the  other  poverty,  with  disorder  and  dirt.  In- 
deed, the  selection  of  the  places  indicated  the  degree  and 
order  of  breeding  of  the  occupants.  What  the  former 
habitation  gained  by  its  cleanher  surroundings  and  or- 
derly keeping,  it  lost  by  the  absence  of  ventilation  ;  for 
each  room  served  the  purpose  to  a  family  for  eating, 
sleeping,  and  cooking.  The  tenements  in  St.  Thomas 
Street  were  faced  by  an  alley  about  six  feet  wide.  In 
this  alley  was  daily  thrown  offal  and  refuse  of  every 
description  by  the  tenants,  which  waited  for  a  rain  alone 
to  carry  off.  In  the  mean  time,  the  stench  arising  from 
it  added  its  influence  in  propagating  disease.     It  was 

D2 


82  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

my  first  effort  to  induce  tlie  inmates  to  correct  this  ob- 
jection, but  without  success.  Day  by  day  I  sent  out 
victims  from  both  places  to  the  hospitals  as  fast  as  they 
would  receive  them.  When  the  latter  peremptorilj-  re- 
fused farther  admissions,  we  then  established  an  infirm- 
ary of  our  own  in  a  street  between  the  two  points  of  in- 
fection. 

During  epidemics  our  sick  are  attended  to  at  their 
homes,  provided  they  are  parents  or  children  who  have 
parents  to  nurse  them.  Single  men  or  women,  having 
no  such  attendants,  were  sent  to  the  Charity  or  to  the 
hospitals  established  by  us.  Timely  medical  attention, 
cleanliness,  and  ventilation  were  superior  there  to  that 
in  their  own  homes.  The  police  of  the  city  had  been 
doing  our  service  for  weeks  j)revious  in  sending  off  the 
sick  to  the  hospitals  as  fast  as  discovered.  Although 
disease  had  already  decimated  the  inhabitants  of  both 
places,  I  could  not  imagine  where  those  remaining  found 
a  place  to  lay  their  heads  at  night.  Curiosity  incited 
me  to  a  closer  observation  one  night,  under  the  excuse 
of  inquiring  for  a  fictitious  person.  By  the  light  of  a 
lantern  I  explored  every  room.  As  the  door  of  each 
was  opened  to  me,  the  concentrated  essence  of  breath 
and  animal  ef&uvia  nearly  stunned  my  consciousness. 
Somewhat  used,  however,  to  this,  I  manfully  persevered, 
and  convinced  myself  that  the  annihilation  of  space  was 
as  well  provided  against  as  if  it  had  been  surely  antici- 
pated. One  mattress,  in  many  instances,  served  the  pur- 
pose of  a  pillow  to  six  or  eight  adults,  while  the  very 
youngest  occupied  the  middle  of  it.  Yet  soundly  they 
all  slept,  undisturbed,  to  all  appearance,  by  fears  of  death 
or  starvation,  one  of  which  almost  hourly  dragged  his 
indifferent  victim  to  eternity,  while  the  other  had  already 
impressed  his  seal  upon  their  countenances.  The  great- 
est enemy  the  Germans  and  Scotch  had  to  fear  was  starv- 
ation.    Thev  desired  work,  but  could  find  none.     The 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  83 

Irish  were  no  less  inquiring  for  something  to  do ;  but, 
when  they  found  it,  the  fear  of  the  disease,  and  frequent 
attendance  at  wakes,  led  them  to  spend  their  wages  for 
liquor,  such  indulgence  the  more  exposing  them  to  the 
certainty  of  a  fatal  attack.  With  both,  where  to  sleep 
to-night^  and  what  to  eat  or  drink  to-day^  were  the  limit 
to  desires.  Commiseration  for  their  companions  in  dis- 
tress they  could  not  have ;  self-preservation  shut  their 
eyes  to  all  but  themselves. 

It  is  remarkable,  as  well  as  characteristic,  with  what 
sacred  fidelity  the  Irishman  perpetuates  in  this  country 
his  national  custom  of  night- vigils,  with  intoxicating 
draughts  and  pipe,  around  the  corpse  of  one  of  his  coun- 
trymen. He  will  pawn  his  shirt  but  that  the  material 
should  be  forthcoming  to  wrap  him  in  Elysian  dreams, 
and  do  fitting  honors  to  the  spirit  that  hovers  around  its 
late  tenement.  This  is  not  all.  At  a  sacrifice  of  many 
home  comforts,  his  family  must  be  entailed  with  the  ex- 
pense of  a  carriage  to  increase  the  length  of  the  mourn- 
ing cortege.  When  one  entirely  destitute  of  friends  or 
acquaintances  is  suddenly  stricken  down,  the  pride  of 
nationality  is  awakened  in  the  accidental  visitor,  who 
collects  together  some  of  his  own  friends  to  do  this  spirit 
reverence  that  now  dwells  with  others  gone  before. 
Should  an  ancient  belief  be  true  that  a  man's  heaven  in 
after  life  is  the  indulgence  of  his  master  passion  or  pro- 
pensity, well  may  it  be  ordained  that  a  different  planet 
be  appropriated  to  Bacchus,  Mercury,  Yenus,  Pocahon- 
tas, and  the  rest ;  for,  amid  the  excess  of  all,  the  disciples 
of  neither  could  enjoy  themselves,  until  confusion,  be- 
coming worse  confounded,  would  bring  all  up  to  the 
conviction  that  this  dream  of  heaven  is  now  a  sad  real- 
it}^  of  hell.  But  where  am  I  roving  to  ?  An  associate 
and  myself  relieved  each  other,  and  divided  our  atten- 
tions between  the  two  infected  places.  Without  entire- 
ly depriving  any  of  stimulating  drinks,  we  allowed  near- 


84  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ly  all  indulgence  at  fixed  times  of  the  day.  To  those 
not  making  wages  we  furnislied  groceries  for  themselves 
and  families.  By  such  favors  they  were  induced  to  set 
about  removing  filth  and  objectionable  matter  from 
around  them,  to  cleanse  and  ventilate  their  apartments. 
By  a  free  use  of  chloride  of  lime  the  infecting  vehicles 
of  disease  were  dissipated.  From  ten  to  fifteen  in  each 
place  were  constantly  on  the  sick-list,  and  from  five  to 
ten  died  daily.  Our  physician  instructed  us  that,  when 
he  could  not  be  found  immediately,  and  in  case  of  vio- 
lent cramps,  to  give  a  salt  and  mustard  emetic,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  dose  of  ten  to  twenty  grains  of  calomel,  aft-  ■ 
erward  to  keep  the  patient  warmly  covered  in  bed,  and 
equalize  the  temperature  of  his  body  by  mustard-baths 
or  cataplasms  on  the  extremities.  When  the  cases  ad- 
mitted of  delay,  I  administered  a  wine-glass  of  good 
brandy  dashed  with  a  pinch  of  Cayenne.  The  latter  I 
found  checked  the  disposition  to  vomit  and  diarrhoea, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  sent  the  blood  tingling  through 
the  veins.  ^  So  rapid  is  the  execution  done  by  cholera 
that  it  was  important  that  one  or  other  of  us  should 
be  in  attendance  night  and  day.  This,  though  prostrat- 
ing to  our  energies,  was  attended  with  so  much  self- 
gratification  at  our  continual  successes,  that  we  remain- 
ed at  our  posts  till  cessation  of  disease  gave  us  no  more 
patients.  During  the  whole  time  their  gratitude  and  re- 
liance upon  us  was  almost  of  the  nature  of  deification. 
It  could  not  be  explained  to  them  that  men  would  choose 
to  place  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a  poverty  and  dis- 
ease that  they  execrated  and  even  prayed  to  escape,  nor 
could  they  more  understand  that  what  they  looked  upon 
as  a  mad  folly  we  indulged  in  with  eager  earnestness. 

The  Howard  Association,  as  now  organized,  is  an  in- 
stitution inseparable  from  the  prosperity  of  ISTew  Orleans, 
and  is  suggestive  in  its  results  and  benefits  to  the  popu- 
lation of  all  large  cities.     Quarantine  would  no  longer 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  85 

occupy  the  Legislature  and  the  medical  world  in  learn- 
ed and  interminable  disputes  of  its  questionable  utility 
were  associations  like  ours  recognized  by  state  patron- 
age, with  enlarged  privileges.  It  is  only  imperfectly 
fulfilling  the  objects  of  quarantine  to  keep  off  a  diseased 
or  an  infected  subject,  or  to  prevent  the  spread  of  mala- 
ria by  fumigating  a  ship's  hold,  when  the  half-starved 
or  poorly-provisioned  immigrant  is  either  sent  to  the 
city  convalescent,  without  ability  to  work,  or  penniless, 
and  not  equal  to  it.  They  then  have  to  feed  upon  the 
cheapest  grub,  huddle  together  in  damp  hovels,  and  form 
of  themselves  a  focus  of  infection  for  the  whole  city. 
Were  the  money  thus  lavished  upon  quarantine  laid  out 
in  building  and  provisioning  a  commodious  establish- 
ment, not  distant  from  the  city,  where  both  sick  and  well 
of  steerage  passengers  should  be  forced  to  remain  at  least 
a  week,  until  they  undergo  a  complete  cleansing  of  their 
persons,  wholesome  air  and  food  would  then  dispel  the 
effects  of  ship  confinement.  In  such  an  establishment  la- 
bor would  seek  them,  averting  from  them  the  evils  aris- 
ing from  runners  of  low  boarding-houses,  who  not  only 
rob  them  of  their  little  store,  but  fatten  on  the  premium 
obtained  from  the  sale  of  their  time  to  contractors.  Such 
an  establishment  would  be  both  politic  and  philanthrop- 
ic. The  mortuary  statistics  of  all  sea-port  towns  furnish 
us  with  the  fact  that  the  poor  immigrants  introduce,  or, 
if  not,  generate  and  disseminate  disease  among  assimilat- 
ing elements  in  all  of  them.  The  cities,  ])er  iiisis^  or 
their  inhabitants,  are  healthy.  It  is  evident,  then,  that 
the  result  of  such  a  connection,  as  a  prescribed  attach- 
ment for  state  economy,  to  the  Howard  Association,  or 
like  institutions,  would  be  a  falling  off  of  admissions  to 
the  hospitals,  a  gain  to  the  general  health,  and  in  its 
train  increased  wealth  to  the  community  and  a  saving 
to  the  state. 

"With  such  a  legislative  attachment,  the  Howard  As- 


86  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

sociation  would  be  sliorn  of  mucli  of  its  duties,  for  its 
objects  of  relief  and  care  are  almost  entirely  of  the  im- 
migrant class.  Every  year  more  and  more  increases 
the  importance  of  such  an  institution  as  ours.  We  can 
never  again  look  for  the  extraordinary  influx  to  our 
resources  in  1853  ($225,000),  which  has  afforded  us,  un- 
til now,  the  means  of  relieving  widespread  distress. 
When,  however,  one  year  of  epidemic  reigns  without 
similar  aid,  and  our  organization  becomes  suspended,  the 
pestilence  would  convert  the  city  into  a  charnel-house. 

A  nos  moutons.  There  are  residents  in  New  Orleans, 
as  in  other  cities,  not  pestered  with  the  itch  of  travel- 
ing. The  intrusion  of  cholera  snapped  the  cord  to  their 
hearths,  and  scattered  them  far  and  wide.  Our  streets 
were  truly  desolate.  Where  imperious  necessity  re- 
strained some  to  remain,  the  closest  attention  to  cleanli- 
ness and  the  nicest  discrimination  in  food  were  studied 
by  others  able  to  leave  the  city.  "What  do  you  eat?" 
"What  shall  I  eat?"  were  stereotyped  phrases  on  meet- 
ing. The  places  of  business  resort  were  the  scene  of 
frequent  merriment  to  some,  who,  knowing  the  strength 
of  the  imagination,  would,  upon  the  appearance  of  a  vis- 
itor, joke  him  with  the  remark  that  he  looked  very  pale, 
and,  taking  his  hand,  say  that  he  was  pulseless.  It  was 
invariably  followed  by  a  call  for  drinks  all  around. 
These  jokes  were  carried  at  times  to  a'  cruel  extent,  as 
instances  were  reported  where  fear  finished  what  a  con- 
valescent frame  invited. 

In  1847  our  association  attended  to  1200  patients, 
losing  180.  In  the  years  1849  and  1851,  the  Charity 
Hospital  furnished  room  for  all  the  indigent  sick,  mak- 
ing our  duties  light  in  the  sustenance  and  support  only 
of  the  convalescents  and  their  families. 

During  these  j^ears  I  have  many  reminiscences  of  sick- 
ness and  distress.  Only  to  two  shall  I  revert,  not  from 
superior  interest,  but  that  friends  would  be  displeased 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  87 

with  tlie  reference  to  otliers.  As  a  characteristic  of  dis- 
ease, and  the  direction  exercised  by  opposite  forces,  as 
well  as  to  carry  out  the  original  intention  of  the  publi- 
cation, I  shall  dwell  upon  only  the  two  following  cases, 
leaving  for  scenes  and  labors  of  the  more  memorable 
year  of  1853  to  give  a  complete  and  close  view  of  the 
workmgs  of  our  association. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

A  stubborn  Case. — The  Selfishness  of  doing  Good. — Eanes,  the  Cup- 
per.—Predestination. 

I  HAD  made  the  promise,  frequently  made  by  friend 
to  friend,  to  Fred  L.,  a  native  of  Kentucky,  that  I  would 
nurse  him  if  he  became  attacked  with  yellow  fever.  We 
had  been  room-mates  during  years  of  clerkship,  and  had 
cultivated  our  intimacy  since.  The  first  intimation  of 
his  illness  was  about  three  hours  after  the  disease  de- 
veloped itself.  As  was  my  wont,  I  bolted  in  up  stairs, 
dispensing  with  any  notice  to  the  keeper  of  the  chamhres 
garnies.  I  was  about  handling  the  knob  of  his  chamber 
door  when  the  familiar  face  of  a  Creole  nurse  exhibited 
itself  from  the  end  of  the  passage  with  a  cautionary  ges- 
ture, at  the  same  time  beckoning  me  to  her. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  Mr.  L.  ?" 

"  That  is  my  purpose." 

"  Well,  you  can't.  The  doctor  has  just  left,  and  or- 
dered me  not  even  to  let  his  father  in." 

"  Tell  the  doctor  I  am  father,  mother,  and  all ;  and  I 
promise  you  no  harm." 

With  that  I  quietly  opened  the  door,  approached  the 
bed,  and  found  my  friend  lying  with  his  back  toward 
me,  profusely  and  tightly  covered  with  blankets,  with  a 
wet  cloth  concealing  half  his  face.     The  act  of  passing 


88  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

my  hand  upon  his  forehead  brought  forth  a  grunt,  with 
the  exclamation, 

"Will  you  leave  me  alone?" 

"Not  I,  Fred,"  I  replied.  "I  intend  that  you  shall 
not  be  entertained  with  such  disconsolate  company. 
How  are  you,  old  fellow  ?  Got  it  now  well,  eh  ?  You're 
sure  it's  Yellow  Jack  you've  got?" 

"Oh!  is  it  you?  Indeed  I  have,  or  I  have  a  touch 
rather  of  infernal  fever.  My  brain  is  on  fire,  and  I  feel 
a  weariness,  without  being  able  to  sleep,  which  no  po- 
sition can  relieve.  Then  these  cursed  blankets  are  add- 
ing fuel  to  the  flame ;  and,  by-the-by,  I  don't  believe  in 
this  homoeopathy  of  heat  extracting  heat ;  for,  mind  you, 
I  feel  as  if  I  was  digesting  my  entrails,  and  were  going 
to  be  served  up  as  boiled  pork." 

The  comparison  drew  a  simultaneous  ha !  ha !  Of  a 
lively,  mercurial  disposition,  devil-may-care  in  every 
thing,  and,  as  he  was  possessed  of  wit  of  the  most  com- 
panionable kind,  I  counted  upon  his  playing  upon  his 
condition  even  in  extremis.  The  physician  attending 
him  had  been  recommended  to  him  by  an  old  citizen, 
who  for  years  had  watched  the  success  of  his  practice. 
I  advised  my  friend  to  adhere  strictly  to  the  orders  of 
the  physician,  with  the  assurance  that  he  was  now  suf- 
fering the  worst  of  the  disease,  and  to  comfort  himself 
that,  in  bearing  manfully  what  thousands  had  under- 
gone, a  successful  issue  was  a  safeguard  against  all  other 
ills  indigenous  to  a  southern  latitude. 

"But  I  have  no  faith  in  a  physician  that  has  been 
torturing  me  from  the  start.  First  a  dose  of  oil — a  vil- 
lainous potation,  which  I  could  not  retain ;  then  immer- 
sion in  a  hot  bath,  with  cold  water  poured  on  my  head, 
making  me  almost  crazy ;  afterward  God  knows  what 
in  a  powder,  turning  my  head  dizzy  with  an  everlasting 
ringing  in  the  ears.  After  all  this,  he  whispers  to  the 
nurse  to  have  every  thing  in  readiness  for  the  visit  of  a 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  89 

cupper.  Do  you  think  I  intend  to  be  tortured  farther, 
with  the  doubtful  chance  of  recovery  ?    Not  I — not  I." 

I  enjoined  upon  him  submission  and  quiet;  assured 
him  that  he  was  what  was  termed  by  the  faculty  a 
heautiful  case,  richly  developed;  that  every  thing  was  in 
his  favor,  and  by  the  morning  he  would  be  L.  redivivus. 
He  was  about  replying,  when  I  threatened  to  leave  if 
he  did  not  discontinue  talking. 

L.  was  of  a  sanguine  temperament  and  of  robust 
frame,  to  whom  disease  or  illness  had  been  a  stranger 
within  his  memory.  In  the  evening  I  found  him  repos- 
ing, with  a  reduced  pulse.  The  cupper  had  called  in 
my  absence,  but  my  friend  was  stubborn  in  his  objection 
to  losing  blood. 

Late  at  night  I  had  returned  home,  wearied  from 
attending  the  poor  unfortunates  in  my  district.  Imme- 
diately after  performing  ablutions,  to  rid  myself  of  the 
fetid  odor  that  seizes  upon  the  body  and  clothes  in  a 
sick-room,  a  rap  was  given  at  my  door.  I  was  in  the 
habit  of  answering  night  messages  personally ;  exhaust- 
ed as  I  was,  I  called  the  servant  to  receive  the  message 
for  me,  and  ordered  him,  unless  it  was  very  pressing  or 
a  new  case,  to  say  that  I  was  not  at  home.  I  soon  lay 
down,  in  the  sweet  consciousness  that  a  few  hours  of 
luxurious  repose  were  mine,  intending  to  go  the  round 
of  my  duties  after  midnight.  Before  I  had  shut  out  the 
world  from  my  thoughts,  the  servant  announced  a  mes- 
sage from  L.,  desiring  to  see  me  immediately.  In  the 
contest  between  physical  and  mental  indulgence,  the 
latter  prevailed.  "  What  a  hero !"  exclaims  the  reader, 
in  his  imperfect  experience  of  human  nature.  Listen 
while  I  destroy  the  delusion.  There  is  a  selfishness  in 
every  good  act ;  the  sacrifice  of  time,  money,  or  health 
measures  the  degree  of  it.  To  act  in  conformity  to  the 
dictated  of  conscience  is  happiness.  To  be  controlled 
by  reason  or  interest,  to  the  end  ''that  the  heavens  may 


90  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

fall  and  I  perish  not,"  is  misery.  I  can  not  eulogize  a 
virtue  so  miicli  as  envy  its  disciple ;  for,  as  Plato  says, 
virtue  is  not  acquired  by  human  instruction  or  from 
experience  of  its  good  so  much  as  it  is  the  gift  of 
Heaven.     Again,  with  Milton, 

"Virtue  could  see  to  do  what  Virtue  would, 
By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  sun  and  moon 
.     Were  in  the  flat  sea  sunk." 

The  hypocrite  with  sinister  motives,  acting  in  repug- 
nance to  his  feelings  to  gull  the  world  into  a  conviction 
of  his  excellence,  is  alone  worthy  of  eulogy,  for  it  is  vice 
paying  tribute  to  virtue.  Notoriety  is  his  ephemeral 
reward.  We  wonder  at,  while  we  commend,  acts  of 
generosity  and  daring,  because  we  do  not  know  that  the 
impulse  to  them  is  perfectly  natural,  not  feeling  alike 
ourselves.  There  are  some  endowed  by  nature  with 
the  constitution  and  disposition  to  endure  privations 
and  hardships,  who  sacrifice  time  and  health  in  pursuits 
resulting  alone  in  the  good  of  others,  who  are  looked 
upon  by  the  world  as  martyrs ;  yet  indulgence  in  their 
favorite  pursuit  is  more  grateful  to  them  than  the  world's 
praise.  There  is  a  ruhng  passion  in  every  man,  which 
is  proportioned  in  intensity  to  education  and  jDhysical 
organization.  (I  exclude  the  consideration  of  vulgar 
propensities.)  I  believe  that  he  who  is  conformed  to 
doing  good  can  not  avoid  his  acts,  and  one  less  conform- 
ed is  deserving  of  the  more  credit  when  he  successfully 
contends  with  his  repugnance  to  charitable  offices.  In 
the  perilous  enterprises  of  Franklin  or  of  Kane — ay,  in 
the  clashing  of  steel  to  steel  in  murderous  array ;  in  the 
world-astounding  privations  and  self-denials  of  the  sister 
of  charity  or  pioneer  priest,  there  is  a  selfishness — an 
excitement  in  their  soul-absorbing  occupations,  which 
contemplates  neither  the  blasts  of  fame  from  the  trump- 
ets of  earth,  nor  the  promised  rewards  of  a  future  life. 
When  volunteer  aid  was  called  for  in  the  Mexican  war, 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  91 

was  it  patriotism  or  love  for  excitement  that  moved  tens 
of  thousands  of  Americans  under  arms  ?  It  was  certain- 
ly not  for  the  pay.  The  world  reads  the  thrilling  nar- 
rative with  the  impression  that  the  actors  are  heroes  to 
themselves.  Could  the  secret  be  revealed,  the  latter 
wonder  in  turn  at  the  fascination  with  which  other  pur- 
suits of  less  exciting  character  possess  the  majority  of 
mankind. 

A  strange  digression  on  the  subject  of  my  interrupted 
repose,  but  necessary,  to  dull  the  edge  of  censure  for  oth- 
erwise apparent  vanity  and  egotism. 

I  dressed  hastily,  and  was  at  my  friend's  bedside. 

"You  have  been  a  long  time  coming,"  said  he,  ''for 
in  a  few  hours  I  have  lived  ages  of  pain  and  thought ; 
all  that  is  damnable  rises  before  my  imagination.  My 
fancy  fashions  in  the  darkness  a  horrible  panorama  of 
the  infernal  regions.  Can  I  be  getting  worse  ?  and  are 
these  the  precursors?" 

"  Of  good  results,"  I  replied,  "  as  every  thing  is  by 
contraries  in  yellow  fever." 

A  powder  that  was  due  at  that  time  had  to  be  taken. 

"Another  bee-hive!"  he  ejaculated,  alluding  to  the 
singing  effects  of  the  quinine. 

A  mustard-bath  was  brought  in,  into  which  we  grad- 
ually drew  his  feet  from  the  side  of  the  bed.  As  we 
were  doing  this,  he  groaned  with'  pain.  To  laugh  at  his 
weakness  only  made  him  more  unmanageable.  We  suc- 
ceeded in  a  full  immersion  to  his  ankles,  and  commenced 
rubbing.  No  sooner  did  he  feel  a  smarting  between  his 
toes,  than  with  a  sudden  je-rk  of  one  leg  he  kicked  over 
tub  and  chair. 

"Enough  of  this;  you're  either  torturing  me,  or  I'm 
dying ;  so  leave  me  alone.  Tell  the  doctor  I  take  no 
more  stuff;  that  I  want  his  services  no  longer;  that  I 
have  kicked  the  bucket.  Ha !  ha !  ha  1"  The  sudden 
transition  from  the  serious  to  the  jocose  caused  me  to 
join  him  in  his  winding-up  laugh. 


92  UIARY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

He  turned  liimself  around,  we  readjusted  the  bed- 
clothes, and  in  a  few  minutes,  to  all  appearance,  lie  was 
asleep. 

The  next  morning  the  chances  were  even,  although 
the  fever  was  not  yet  broken.  The  physician  appre- 
hended congestion  of  the  brain,  and  was  much  chagrined 
at  the  cupper  being  sent  off,  which  was  done  during  my 
absence.  I  determined  to  use  my  influence,  and  for  that 
purpose  set  out  for  Eanes  the  cupper,  who  followed  me 
an  hour  afterward. 

Eanes  entered  the  room  with  me.  "With  a  blandness 
of  manner  peculiarly  his  own,  which,  on  first  sight,  dis- 
pelled the  idea  that  any  thing  connected  with  him  or 
his  profession  was  repulsive  in  its  character,  he  bowed 
to  my  friend,  who  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  him  as  if  he 
feared  meditated  murder ;  but,  nothing  daunted  by  the 
inquisitiveness  of  the  searching  look,  Eanes  bowed,  then 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  snow-white  muslin  kerchief, 
which  while  passing  over  his  face,  he  muttered  an  apol- 
ogy for  his  reintrusion,  saying  that  ''he  knew  now  my 
friend  would  not  but  submit  to  what  would  do  him  so 
much  goody 

"Your  name  is  Eanes,  eh?  Well,  my  name  is  L. 
Just  as  sure  as  there  is  truth  in  either  proposition,  if  you 
attempt  by  force  or  cunning  to  put  your  cursed  inten- 
tions into  execution,  I'll  make  jow  swallow  cups  and 
all — and  you  know  I'll  do  it." 

Eanes  was  a  colored  man,  extremely  neat  in  his  per- 
son, gentlemanly  in  his  address,  and  professionally  dis- 
criminating in  the  use  of  his  instruments.  He  believed 
that  cupping  was  a  remedy  for  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to,  and  most  of  those  that  accidentally  endanger 
life.  In  one  instance,  I  remember  the  exultation  he  dis- 
played upon  his  success  in  removing  in  a  short  time,  by 
his  cups,  an  enlargement  of  the  liver  and  its  torpidity, 
when  the  patient  was  assured  that  cure  or  relief  would 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  93 

not  ensue  except  by  a  course  of  calomel,  and  confine- 
ment to  bed  for  at  least  ten  days.  He  was  very  commu- 
nicative on  tlie  power  of  his  cups  to  decrease  any  local 
inflammation  or  complaint  without  the  use  of  medicine. 
His  theory  was  that  the  system  eliminated  from  food 
and  atmosphere  nothing  but  wholesome  blood,  and  that 
the  undue  exercise  of  any  one  of  its  organs  corrupted 
the  blood  in  its  passage  by  or  through  it,  and  from  stag- 
nation created  pain  and  disease.  ''Send  a  healthy  cur- 
rent through  this,"  said  he  to  me,  "  and  nature  is  re- 
stored." He  was,  withal,  a  valuable  acquisition  to  a  sick- 
room. His  conversation  was  replete  with  anecdote  of 
professional  experience,  well  timed  to  create  a  laugh,  just 
as  he  was  placing  his  cups  on  a  delicate  or  tender  part. 
He  knew  every  thing  about  town  recherche  in  the  mat- 
ter of  scandal,  and,  when  his  memory  failed,  I  had  no 
doubt  that  he  had  the  wit  to  invent  many  things,  which 
I  have  heard  him  recount,  that  would  have  raised  a 
laugh  from  the  ribs  of  death.  He  had  a  steady  hand, 
and  was  pronounced  the  most  skillful  that  ever  handled 
scarifier  or  leech.  Many  a  physician  owed  to  him  their 
boasted  success  in  wonderful  cures  ;  and,  though  he  tam- 
pered not  with  their  orders  or  prescriptions,  he  was  con- 
sulted by  them  in  the  more  delicate  operations.  His  in- 
come was  large,  but  he  was  wastefully  extravagant,  and 
liberal  to  his  kind,  and,  I  was  told,  died  from  chagrin 
that  he  had  become  too  greatly  involved  in  securities  for 
others.     Peace  to  his  manes ! 

Eanes  did  not  reply  to  my  friend's  remarks.  With  a 
look  to  me,  he  placed  his  box  under  his  arm,  and,  as  he 
put  on  his  hat,  on  bowing  himself  through  the  door,  his 
musical  intonation  of  "  Good-morning,  gentlemen !"  would 
have  struck  any  one  as  a  grateful  acknowledgment  for 
services  fulfilled. 

On  that  night  I  had  no  hopes  of  L.  All  that  he  ask- 
ed for  was  a  piece  of  ice  occasionally.     He  permitted  the 


94  DIAKY   OF  A  SAMAKITAX. 

nurse  to  give  him  a  mild  foot-bath,  and  to  apply  sina- 
pisms to  his  ankles.  Again  the  doctor  intimated  his  fear 
of  congestion,  and  told  me,  as  his  friend,  that,  as  the  pa- 
tient was  stubborn,  he  would  leave  him  to  his  fate.  I 
entered  the  room  to  have  a  decisive  talk  with  L. 

"My  dear  L.,"  said  I,  "there  are  times  which  try  the 
best  of  friends,  and  I  know  none  more  trying  than  the 
present  occasion  to  me.  You  are,  likely,  not  aware  of 
your  condition.  It  is  right  that  I  should  apprise  you, 
knowing  that,  if  the  worst  happens,  you  have  many 
things  to  speak  to  me  about,  even  if  it  is  a  dictation  of 
a  letter  to  your  mother." 

At  the  last  word,  which  struck  a  chord,  he  partly 
raised  himself  from  the  bed,  and,  with  intensely-inquir- 
ing look,  said, 

' '  Are  you  serious  ?  " 

"  On  my  honor,  serious." 

"And  no  hope?" 

"But  one — -that  you  obey  the  order  of  the  physician. 
You  must  lose  some  of  your  sluggish  blood,  or  you're  a 
dead  man.  There's  no  use  mincing  the  truth — ^you're  a 
dead  man !" 

I  said  this  with  due  solemnity,  and  he  replied,  "Do 
as  you  will  with  me."     I  sent  off  for  Eanes. 

In  the  mean  time  a  distinguished  physician  of  my  ac- 
quaintance was  driving  by,  when  I  obtained  the  consent 
of  the  one  employed  to  stop  him  for  a  consultation. 
After  due  examination  of  the  patient,  they  entered  the 
adjoining  room,  shutting  to  the  door  after  them.  In  a 
low  tone  they  exchanged  opinions,  and  concluded  that, 
unless  my  friend  submitted  to  the  loss  of  eight  or  ten 
ounces  of  blood  by  cupping,  his  chance  was  desperate. 
They  had  not  much  hope  of  him,  at  any  rate.  I  stepped 
to  the  bedside,  roused  L.,  saw  that  he  recognized  me,  but 
with  an  indifferent  air  listened  to  what  I  spoke  of  I 
announced  my  intention  of  bringing  back  Eanes  imme- 
diatelv. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  95 

Eanes  had  been  fooled,  as  he  said,  twice,  and  showed 
his  chagrin  in  reservedness  of  manner.  A  table  was 
drawn  by  the  bedside,  and  his  box  of  implements  was 
opened  in  preparation.  Having  made  his  selection  of 
cnps,  set  his  scarifier,  and  honed  a  razor,  he  gently  laid 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  patient,  and,  in  his  soft, 
persuasive  voice,  said,  "Will  you  be  sO  good,  sir,  as  to  in- 
cline your  head  to  the  edge  of  the  pillow  ?"  at  the  same 
time  assisting  him  to  obtain  the  proper  jDosition.  Lather 
was  now  spread  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  in  a  trice 
the  field  for  operation  was  laid  bare.  A  sponge  dipped 
in  w^arni  water  was  passed  over  the  part,  a  cup  rinsed 
with  its  due  quantity  of  alcohol  set  on  fire,  and  instant- 
ly applied.  I  have  never  witnessed  this  operation  for 
the  first  time  on  any  one  that  I  have  not  made  merry 
over  the  surprise  and  exclamations  of  the  patients.  To 
my  astonishment,  L.  did  not  wince.  In  four  or  five 
minutes  the  part  was  in  good  condition  for  scarifying. 
As  he  was  taking  off  the  cups,  my  friend,  heroic  under 
suffering,  as  he  thought,  exclaimed,  "  Thank  God,  this  is 
over;  what  next  torture  is  in  preparation?"  He  knew 
not  what  portended  the  click  of  the  scarifier;  but  no 
sooner  was  it  sprung  upon  its  victim's  tender  flesh  than 
the  latter  fairly  bellowed  with  pain ;  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, with  a  violent  jerk  of  his  body,  he  threw  himself 
crosswise  on  the  bed,  giving  Eanes  a  look  of  defiance 
and  hate,  accompanied  by  the  quaintest  oath  in  the  vo- 
cabulary. So  immoderate  was  my  laughter,  that  tears 
ran  down  my  cheeks,  while  Eanes,  with  all  his  self-con- 
trol, could  not  smother  a  chuckle.  I  rallied  L.  on  his 
puerile  weakness.  After  much  persuasion,  mingled  with 
ridicule,  he  again  put  himself  in  position.  A  larger 
quantity  of  alcohol  than  before  was  poured  in  a  cup,  a 
flame  set  to  it,  and  suddenly  set  upon  the  scarified  part. 
A  whoop  like  an  Indian's  broke  from  him  this  time,  his 
body  made  a  gyration  of  fifteen  degrees  more  than  be- 


96  DIARY   OF  A   SAMARITAN. 

fore,  and,  rolling  out  this  time  an  elephantine  oath,  he 
seized  the  cup,  and,  without  caring  where  it  went,  dash- 
ed it  against  the  bed-post,  scattering  the  pieces  in  every 
direction. 

Eanes  saw  now  that  expostulation  was  of  no  use.  The 
patient  had  recovered  his  position  in  bed,  was  overpow- 
ered by  his  exertions,  and  covered  himself  up  for  repose. 
Eanes  quietly  and  composedly  wiped  and  put  away  his 
implements,  not  angry  or  surprised,  as  he  told  me,  for 
such  conduct  was  not  new  to  him.  "But,  sir,"  said  he 
to  me,  "  did  you  ever  hear  such  oaths  in  your  life?  That 
gentleman  must  be  highly  educated,  or  he  could  not 
have  invented  them."  Taking  his  box  by  the  handle, 
Eanes  bowed  himself  out  with  his  accustomed  polite- 
ness of  manner  and  language.  My  friend  slept  sound- 
ly, called  for  hot  tea,  which  was  given  him,  and  when  I 
left,  after  midnight,  he  was  in  the  most  23rofuse  perspira- 
tion. 

In  the  morning  early  I  was  at  my  post.  To  my  sur- 
prise the  fever  had  left  him,  and  his  skin  and  appear- 
ance were  altogether  favorable.  The  physician  came  in, 
pleased  with  the  unexpected  change,  ordered  pleasant 
and  refreshing  drinks,  and  was  about  leaving,  when  L. 
called  him  back. 

"Doctor,  I  believe  I  should  have  been  a  gone  case  had 
I  not  overheard  j'our  consultation  in  the  next  room  with 

Dr. ,  deciding  on  my  fate.     Every  word  was  as  a 

distinct  whisper  at  my  bedside.  You  opened  a  train  of 
thought  in  me,  bearing  on  necessity  and  predestination, 
which  revived  all  that  I  had  ever  read  on  the  subject. 
I  convinced  myself  that,  in  defiance  of  mere  physical 
cause  and  effect  of  your  schools,  I  vjould  live — et  me  voici^ 
Dodeur!  I  gave  myself  no  concern  for  the  conse- 
quences ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  the  most  pleasing  as- 
sociations connected  with  my  fever ;  for,  while  my  brain 
was  whizzing  under  the  influence  of  quinine,  I  forgot 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  97 

all  pains  in  analyzing  my  sensations,  and  laughing  with- 
in me  at  the  strange  physical  phenomenon." 

Touching  the  nice  sense  of  hearing  spoken  of,  it  is  re- 
markable that,  when  the  attention  is  closely  directed,  it 
reaches  an  acuteness  almost  incredible.  A  perception  as 
characteristic  and  as  lively  accompanies  this,  of  the  faint- 
est expression  of  anxiety  or  doubt  in  the  countenance 
of  the  physician  or  attendants. 

In  a  few  days  afterward  my  friend  was  cracking  jokes 
on  the  incidents  of  his  sickness,  denouncing  physic  and 
the  paraphernalia  of  cure  as  humbugs,  and  was  eloquent 
in  his  essays  on  the  virtue  of  castor-oil,  warm  drinks, 
and  nature,  as  a  sovereign  recipe  for  yellow  fever. 

Thinkmg  that  he  had  inflicted  pain  upon  Eanes  by 
his  brusque  behavior,  he  requested  me  to  accompany  him 
a  few  days  after,  for  the  purpose  of  settling  his  bill  of 
cupping.  Eanes  met  us  at  the  door^  and,  pretending  not 
to  know  my  friend,  for  he  loved  a  joke,  asked  me  the 
result  of  L.'s  illness.  "  Poor  L !"  moaned  L.,  as  he  turn- 
ed his  back  upon  us.  Catching  the  cue,  I  answered  that 
L.  died  very  hard.  "I  am  so  sorry  to  hear  of  itj^  said 
Eanes.  "  The  little  I  saw  of  him  convinced  me  that  he 
was  a  perfect  gentleman ;  and,  had  he  survived,  I  am 
sure  he  would  have  paid  me  handsomely.  As  it  is,  I 
can  only  look  for  my  usual  fee,  and  shall  take  that  with 
reluctance."  This  was  a  sell,  over  the  left,  and  not  only 
drew  down  tears  of  laughter  from  all  three,  but  caused 
the  exchange  of  a  triple  fee  from  the  pocket  of  L.  to  the 
hand  of  the  facetious  scarifier. 

E 


98  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 


CHAPTER  YH. 

"Judge  not,  lest  ye  be  judged." — The  Secrecy  of  Immorality. — An  en- 
thusiastic Howard. — His  Works. — His  Sickness. — His  desultory  Re- 
marks and  dying  Sentiment. 

It  is  a  common  fault  to  test  the  sayings  and  doings 
of  our  friends  and  acquaintances  by  the  conventional 
standard  of  honor  and  honesty,  and  to  condemn  without 
troubling  ourselves  to  examine  into  the  motives  which 
impelled  the  censured.  Society  admits  no  excuse  or  pal- 
liation for  offense  to  either.  Men  and  women  throng  our 
path  whose  conscience  convicts  them  of  ha^dng,  at  one 
time  or  other,  committed  a  heinous  offense  against  mo- 
rality, which  flushes  the  cheek  with  shame  when  dwelt 
on ;  and  a  sense  of  horror  seizes  them  when  they  reflect 
upon  the  precipice  before  them  from  €X20osure.  We 
know  that  men  commit  offenses  daily  who  escape  the 
clutches  of  justice.  With  many  of  these  there  are  no 
compunctions  of  conscience.  The  most  pure  and  sensi- 
tive mind  has  its  share  of  shame  and  self-reproach  for 
neglected  duties  or  for  the  imaginary  wrong  of  idle 
words.  But  charge  them  with  the  fact,  blazon  to  the 
world  their  sin  or  vice,  they  immediately  sink  in  their 
own  estimation  proportionally  to  their  fall  in  society. 
Each  may  justify  his  acts,  or,  if  not,  by  penitential  expi- 
ations and  good  works  atone  to  God  and  their  own  con- 
science; but  to  the  world  no  excuse  is  admitted — no 
reformation  will  place  them  above  the  malignant  shafts 
of  worse  men.  Accident  discovers  half  the  offenses 
against  morality  which  occupy  the  tongue  of  slander. 
One  has  lived  little  in  the  world  who  has  not  been 
privy  to  the  hushing  up  of  peccadilloes   and  impru- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  99 

dences  wliicli,  if  exposed,  would  stamp  the  offender  Avitli 
lifelong  shame,  if  it  did  not  drive  him  to  greater  infamy, 
but,  being  kept  secret,  have  enabled  him  to  expiate  the 
offense  by  a  career  ©f  honor.  In  many  such  cases,  the 
motives  of  the  false  step  may  be  traced  to  a  desire  to  es- 
cape a  great  evil  and  personal  calamity.  The  offender, 
with  the  hope  of  timely  concealment,  resolves  to  make 
amends;  indeed,  the  promise  of  ability  to  do  so  he 
thinks  certain.  He  is  disappointed,  he  is  discovered, 
and  the  judgment  of  society  is  that  he  is  a  villain  or 
rogue  in  principle,  and  that  the  willful  love  for  the 
crime  or  passion  alone  drove  him  to  the  act. 

If  virtue  has  its  own  reward,  vice  has  no  less  its  cer- 
tain punishment.  Men  suffer,  in  a  moral  penitentiary 
of  their  own,  with  tenfold  greater  severity  to  their  sensi- 
tive minds  than  the  hardened  villain  under  penal  inflic- 
tion. Ever,  in  the  court  of  their  conscience,  is  their  sin 
arraigned,  and  before  them  ever  stands  their  stern  ac- 
cuser. The  occupations  and  excitements  of  the  world 
curtain  it  during  the  day,  but  in  the  lone  watches  of  the 
night  it  is  found  clinging  around  the  phantasy  with 
Sinbad  clutch. 

Mark  you  well  when  you  are  listening  to  the  details 
of  another's  shame,  and  study  the  character  of  the  gossip 
and  his  hearers  by  their  comments.  He  who  years  ex- 
posure of  much  that  is  offensive  to  law  or  morality  in 
his  own  life  will  be  the  loudest  to  condemn,  as  he  will 
be  the  most  active  to  disseminate  the  scandal  and  hasten 
the  downfall  of  his  fellow.  Without  pity  or  sympathy 
for  the  feelings  of  an  already  lacerated  heart,  with  an 
expressive  holy  horror  for  the  lesion,  he  stands  beside 
the  cross  of  his  victim,  and,  by  publishing  the  sin,  pours 
vinegar  in  his  wounds.  Charity,  in  relieving  the  animal 
wants,  is  trifling  in  its  good  compared  to  that  which 
may  be  exercised  in  society  in  healing  dissensions  in 
families  and  between  friends,  and  showing  encourage- 


100  DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

ment  and  giving  countenance  to  those  who  have  but 
once  offended  against  morality. 

How  many  a  man  has  suffered  from  wrongs  in  the 
home  circle  which  society  never  dreams  of,  and  which 
pride  conceals  even  from  a  bosom  friend,  and,  without  a 
conceived  or  apparent  reason  to  justify  the  course,  places 
himself  under  the  ban  of  proscription  for  giving  loose  to 
the  worst  propensities  in  order  to  drown  his  mortifica- 
tion, or  to  drive  from  his  mind  the  injury  inflicted. 
We  are  all  given  to  vaunt  our  philosophical  heroism 
in  presumed  positions.  We  count  without  our  hosts. 
With  the  same  cause  operating,  your  course  would  have 
been  similar,  if  not  worse.  De  tefahula  narratur.  There- 
fore should  we,  when  we  see  one  suddenly  degrade 
himself  by  a  low  indulgence,  such  as  a  resort  to  intem- 
perance and  its  train  of  evils,  qualify  our  censure  by  a 
charitable  construction  of  the  motives  or  cause,  and 
thank  Grod  that  we  are  not  so  tempted,  so  afliicted. 

One  man  charms  society  with  his  social  qualities,  and 
is  envied  for  his  happiness  and  brilliant  entertainments. 
Another,  who  has  fallen  from  his  own  sense  of  propriety 
and  become  imbruted  by  intoxication,  is  pitied  for  his 
weakness  and  despised  for  his  bestiality.  The  hidden 
cause  of  the  extravagance  and  dissipation  of  the  one, 
the  motive  for  the  degradation  of  the  other,  is  never 
canvassed  or  investigated.  Perhaps  the  motive  in  both 
is  the  same — ^to  fly  away  from  themselves.  Let  us  look 
around.  Before  you  is  one  whose  only  conscience  is 
the  law — ^who,  by  a  cou2')  de  finesse^  a  financial  roguery, 
has  accumulated  thousands,  or  perhaps  has  ridden  to 
wealth  over  the  broken  hearts  of  widows  and  orphans. 
To  conceal  his  humiliation — ^for  depend  upon  it  he  de- 
spises himself — he  flies  to  the  atmosphere  of  festivity, 
and  strives  to  keep  down  the  upbraidings  of  conscience, 
and  memory  of  the  means  whereby  he  was  possessed  of 
his  ill-gotten  treasure ;  at  the  same  time  he  hopes  to 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARTTAJST.  lOl 

succeed,  by  his  social  gatherings  and  expensive  soirks^ 
to  cast  a  Lethean  pall  over  his  antecedents,  and  to 
seem,  if  not  to  be,  worthy  of  the  company  of  the  most 
honorable.  In  contrast,  place  him  who  has  honorably 
struggled  through  life,  combating  with  misfortunes  and 
reverses  perhaps  caused  by  the  rascality  of  the  former. 
An  additional  event  overflows  the  cup  of  his  misfortune. 
Despair  looks  him  in  the  face,  blasted  hopes  half  craze 
him,  the  future  of  his  family  and  children  finish  his 
bewilderment.  Can  we  less  than  pity?  Can  wo  not 
sympathize  "with  the  weakness  of  the  sensitive  mind 
which  can  not  stoically  stand  up  against  accumulated 
ills,  and  will  not  stoop  to  crime  or  injustice  to  extricate 
himself  from  diffi.culties,  but  throws  himself  in  the  lap 
of  intemperance  ?  The  world  generally  stamps  such  a 
course  as  the  evidence  of  a  lost  sense  of  shame,  or  the 
existence  of  an  innate  love  for  intoxication,  or  for  that 
which  is  low  and  degrading. 

My  experience  has  possessed  me  with  many  such  in- 
stances, and  perha|)S  none  more  explanatory  of  the  pre- 
ceding remarks  than  is  attempted  to  be  shown  in  the 
following : 

Frank had  been  in  successful  business  in  ISTew 

Orleans  for  several  years.  His  social  qualities,  candor, 
and  high-toned  honor  in  all  his  transactions  made  him  a 
favorite  in  society.  His  wife  was  as  intelligent  and  do- 
mestic as  she  was  beautiful.  Their  service  was  com- 
plete, and  the  chosen  few  that  were  admitted  to  his  table 
have,  years  after,  exchanged  comparisons  of,  and  refer- 
red to  his  house  as  the  standard  of  elegant  hospitality. 
In  a  season  of  financial  difiiculty,  he  became  ruined  by 
the  villainy  of  a  mutual  endorser.  Business  now  de- 
serted him,  and  increased  troubles  forced  him  into  court. 
Previous  to  the  sale  of  his  furniture,  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren left  him  to  pass  the  summer  in  the  N'orth  with  her 
father,  who  was  in  affluent  circumstances.    He  remained 


IV2,  .  'l^atly  of  a  samaeitan. 

to  complete  the  settlement  with  his  creditors.  With  en- 
ergies able  to  compete  with  any  labors,  he  confidently 
hoped  that  those  who  had  so  often  been  assisted  by  him 
would  give  him  a  helping  hand  in  another  start.  When 
the  tinie  approached,  he  was  met  by  his  quondam  friends 
with  all  manner  of  excuses,  and  by  his  father-in-law  with 
the  observation  that  his  extravagant  habits  had  been 
such  as  to  justify  no  hopes  in  his  success,  and  no  gratifi- 
cation on  his  part  in  advancing  it.  It  was  no  doubt  that, 
as  the  latter  thought,  so  did  the  former.  The  jorofession- 
al  friends  and  intimate  associates  of  leisure  Tiours — those 
by  whom  he  was  properly  appreciated,  and  who  deeply 
sympathized  in  his  misfortunes,  were  unable  to  do  any 
thing  for  him.  Being  deprived  of  the  consolation  and 
advice  of  his  family,  now  most  necessary  to  his  happi- 
ness— left  alone  in  his  struggles — dark  thoughts  poign- 
antly possessed  him  in  his  solitary  chamber.  The  brood- 
ing anticipations  of  evil,  which  have  at  one  time  or  other 
seized  upon  all  men  in  the  sleepless  hours  of  night,  and 
have  been  laughed  at  as  visionary  in  the  morning,  pain- 
fully presented  themselves  to  him  during  the  livelong 
day.  He  wandered  about  listless  for  some  days.  His 
capacity  for  employment  as  any  thing  than  a  correspond- 
ent or  manager  of  a  business  was  defective,  and  in  either 
he  could  not  succeed  in  getting  employment.  Idleness 
and  despair  drove  him  to  intoxication. 

It  is  rare  to  witness  an  assisting  hand  extended  to  a 
bankrupt,  however  honorable,  unless  to  secure  a  previ- 
ous obligation.  All  pity ;  some  excuse ;  but  the  in- 
stances are  few  where  security  is  volunteered  to  place 
him  in  a  condition  to  work  through  his  difficulties,  al- 
though many  may  have  been  largely  indebted  to  him 
for  their  prosperity. 

Frank's  habits  became  now  repulsive  even  to  his 
friends  and  well-wishers.  From  morning  until  night, 
from  night  till  morning,  he  might  be  seen  haunting  the 
resorts  of  intoxication,  beastly  repulsive  to  every  one. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  103 

One  day  lie  entered  tlie  St.Cliaiies,  and,  seeing  me,  ap- 
proaclied.  He  seized  me  by  the  arm,  drew  me  aside 
from  my  companions,  saying  he  wished  to  speak  to  me. 

"I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor." 

"  Out  with  it,"  I  rephed,  as  I  put  my  hand  in  my 
pocket,  expecting  to  be  asked  for  small  change. 

He  shook  his  head  as  if  interpreting  the  action,  and 
said,  "It  is  not  that.  I  am  a  poor  dog,  and  miserable. 
I  do  not  exj)ect  to  live  long — I  pray  not — and  I  wish  to 
do  some  good  before  I  die.  Let  me  only  go  around  with 
you  in  your  visits  to  the  sick.  I  will  nurse  them,  and 
do  any  thing  you  bid." 

A  tear  stood  in  the  corner  of  his  eyes  as  he  suppliant- 
ly  looked  at  me  for  a  favorable  reply.  Believing  him 
serious,  yet  supposing  that  the  revel  of  that  day  or  night 
would  change  his  mind  or  make  him  forget  his  strange 
request  of  me,  I  made  the  appointment  to  meet  him  the 
next  day  at  10  o'clock  at  the  post-ofS.ce. 

"And  you  will  meet  me  at  the  post-office  to-morrow, 
sure?"  said  he. 

"I  promise." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  cholera  and  ship-fever  di- 
vided between  them  the  mortality,  the  victim  escaping 
from  one  dropping  into  the  maw  of  the  other  an  easy 
prey.  Frank  had  not  been  acclimated,  though  a  resident 
for  three  fourths  of  the  year  for  several  years.  There 
was  a  report  and  a  suspicion  that  yellow  fever  also  ex- 
isted, but  the  behavior  of  the  cholera  and  ship-fever  re- 
sembled so  much  the  former,  when  black  vomit  did  not 
certainly  decide,  that  the  faculty  were  divided. 

At  the  hour  appointed  to  meet  Frank,  to  my  surprise, 
I  found  him  waiting.  "With  an  extended  hand,  entirely 
himself,  he  approached  and  said, 

"  Perhaps  you  did  not  think  me  serious  yesterday.  I 
have  been  sleeping  on  my  resolve  and  your  promise, 
and  I  am  now  ready  for  duty." 


104  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

It  was  my  hour  for  visiting  the  sick,  and  I  led  him 
forthwith  to  a  locality  most  thickly  infested  with  dis- 
ease. It  was  a  builchng  on  Constance  Street.  I  had 
there  then  nearly  twenty  patients.  I  opened  the  door 
of  one  tenement,  where  the  night  previous  I  had  left  a 
mother  and  two  children  sick.  On  this  visit  I  found  her 
husband  and  two  more  children  lying  on  the  floor  with 
cholera  symptoms.  The  only  exempt  one  was  a  child 
of  over  two  years,  who,  frightened  at  our  appearance, 
cried  as  it  ran  to  its  mother.  I  questioned  those  pre- 
viously sick  of  the  attendance  of  the  physician,  and 
learned  that  all  the  prescriptions  had  been  procured  and 
administered.  Thus  far  all  was  satisfactory.  On  this 
occasion,  as  always,  the  able  occupants  of  adjoining  ten- 
ements followed  us  round  to  the  sick,  eager  to  do  any 
service  required. 

"Frank,"  said  I,  "here  is  something  worthy  of  your 
attention  and  solicitude.  Do  you  think  you're  equal  to 
it?" 

"  Indeed  I  am,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  occasion." 

I  immediately  selected  a  constant  attendant  or  nurse 
from  one  of  the  neighbors,  under  an  engagement  of  a 
dollar  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  instructed  both  her 
and  Frank  what  to  do.  I  promised  to  see  the  physician, 
and  send  him  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  The  something 
to  be  done  at  the  instant  I  came  happily  provided  with. 
I  carried  about  me  always  a  half  bottle  of  mixture  famous 
for  its  efS.ciency  in  the  incipient  stage  of  cholera,  and 
manipulated  by  an  eminent  druggist  of  the  name  of 
Cannon.  On  the  first  attack,  and  to  be  continued  after 
every  evacuation,  I  prescribed  a  dose  proportionate  to 
the  age  and  strength  of  the  patient.  It  was  conceded 
that  it  not  only  checked  diarrhoea  and  arrested  cramps, 
but  induced  sleep  and  perspiration.  I  did  not  consult 
any  physician  as  to  this  remedy.  I  had  seen  and  known 
of  its  effectual  use,  and  many  have  told  me  that  they 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  105 

owe  me  their  lives  for  persuading  tliem  to  take  this  mix- 
ture with  them,  n^hen  they  found  themselves  surprised 
by  the  disease  in  the  country  and  on  steam-boats.  I  do 
not  believe  that  there  is  any  secret  in  the  principal  in- 
gredients used,  and  other  successful  prescriptions  by  oth- 
er physicians  have  the  same  materials ;  but,  being  chief- 
ly made  use  of  by  me,  I  owe  this  acknowledgment  for 
the  great  service  it  did.  AVhat  spoke  volumes  for  it,  too, 
was  that  I  never  heard  a  physician  denounce  it,  which 
alone  entitles  it  to  class  above  the  pale  of  other  patent 
medicines. 

On  that  afternoon,  when  I  again  stepped  in,  Frank  was 
at  the  apothecary's.  I  found  a  change  in  the  arrange- 
micnt  of  the  furniture  and  beds.  The  distribution  of  the 
sick  in  the  latter  was  also  different.  Frank  and  the 
nurse  had  been  at  work  in  making  something  like  or- 
der and  propriety  out  of  the  articles  of  furniture  and 
clothing  scattered  about  the  room.  Their  supply  of  tin- 
ware was  neatly  arranged  on  the  mantle ;  the  dirty -look- 
ing table  was  covered  with  a  piece  of  white  cotton  pur- 
chased for  bandages ;  the  floor  swept,  and  the  mattresses, 
raised  on  planks,  placed  on  the  two  sides  of  the  room, 
out  of  the  influence  of  currents  of  air.  There  being  an 
insufficiency  of  blankets,  old  carpeting  was  wrapped 
round  the  feet  after  the  mustard-baths  had  been  taken. 
All  looked  comfortable,  and  spoke  feelingly  of  the  kind 
disposition  and  great  interest  Frank  took  in  them. 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  the  old  woman,  "he  is  a  gentleman, 
and  may  God  Almighty  bless  him  forever !" 

Having  seen  my  other  patients  in  the  neighborhood, 
I  returned,  and  found  Frank  at  his  post. 

I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  mark  the  cheerful  tone 
with  which  he  greeted  me.  He  looked  a  counterpart 
of  his  best  days.  He  was  clean  shaved,  and  his  cravat 
was  tied  with  the  care  which  he  formerly  bestowed  upon 
it.     The  change  was  suggestive.     The  diversion  of 

E2 


106  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN". 

tliouglits  from  himself  by  this  occupation ;  abstinence 
from  intoxicating  influences;  an  absorbing  interest  in 
liis  patients,  manifested  themselves  in  his  language  and 
manners. 

Hypocrites  though  there  be  who  do  homage  to  virtue 
by  using  her  mask  to  reach  nefarious  ends,  to  the  prac- 
ticed eye  nature  speaks  truthfully,  and  unveils  the  se- 
crets and  machinations  lurking  behind.  Physiognomy 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  natural  sciences,  and  fur- 
nishes an  infalHble  guide  to  a  knowledge  of  the  charac- 
ter of  man.  If  the  eye  is  the  window  to  the  soul,  the 
human  face  is  a  hieroglyphic  by  which  the  student  may 
interpret  the  words  and  actions  of  men ;  for  as  "  a  man 
thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he,"  not  as  he  does  or  as  he 
says.  It  is  rare  that  the  predominant  passion,  charac- 
teristic, or  general  bent  of  a  man's  mind  is  not  expressed 
in  the  truthful  lineaments  of  the  face.  It  is  this  written 
character  of  the  soul  which  makes  the  beauty  of  ugli- 
ness in  irregular  features,  and  which  causes,  too,  the 
finest-chiseled  features  to  be  repulsive.  There  is  not  a 
feature  there  that  is  not  acted  upon,  and  moved,  and 
takes  its  peculiar  expression  from  some  passion.  'We 
know  the  thoughtful  man  from  the  frivolous;  we  chs- 
tinguish  the  cunning  man  from  the  sincere  and  candid. 
Anger  and  lustful  passions  from  frequent  indulgence 
imbrute,  and  are  stereotyped  in  the  expression  unmis- 
takably. Each  has  its  sign  hung  out  for  every  intelli- 
gent passer-by ;  while  love,  devotion,  benevolence,  are 
no  less  signified  than  grief  and  joy. 

A  new  epoch  seemed  to  dawn  upon  Frank.  He  could 
not  have  looked  better  when  sitting  with  former  friends 
at  his  own  hospitable  table,  and  pleased  was  I  at  the 
chang-e. 

a 

"I  thought,"  said  he,  "that  I  was  the  most  miserable 
creature  alive,  the  most  God-forsaken.  Yet  there  is  a 
dependency  which  in  all  my  troubles  I  never  dreamed  of 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  107 

Do  you  know, ,  that  I  have  actually  shed  tears  over 

these  poor  creatures,  which  I  checked  with  difficulty ; 
that  I  have  been  patting  and  amusing  the  children  with 
all  kinds  of  foolery,  as  I  did  my  own,  and  as  if  they  were 
my  own." 

I  was  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  and  noticed  the 
pleasing  effect  the  recital  made  upon  him,  when  at  the 
last  words  a  watery  film  suffused  his  eyes,  called  up  from 
the  emotions  passing  through  his  mind  in  alluding  to 
his  own  children.  He  suddenly  turned  his  head,  and 
directed  his  attentions  to  the  sick. 

The  next  morning  he  met  me  at  the  door,  looking 
haggard  and  fatigued.  He  had  overtaxed  his  strength 
by  sitting  up  with  his  patients  all  night,  and  was  sick- 
ened by  continual  inhalations  from  the  corrupted  at- 
mosphere around  the  patients.  I  rebuked  him  for  his 
imprudence.  He  replied  that  he  was  aware  the  nurse 
was  all-sufficient  for  the  work,  and  that  he  had  gone  to 
his  room  at  eleven  o'clock,  when  "  his  pets"  were  easy 
and  asleep,  but  that  sleep  fled  his  pillow  from  thoughts 
of  his  wife  and  children,  and  he  had  returned  to  the  in- 
valids. 

When  Frank's  dissolute  habits  became  known  to  his 
wife  and  her  father,  they  ceased  all  correspondence.  The 
latter  would  not  believe  that  Frank's  failure,  if  honor- 
able, would  exclude  him  from  the  helping  hand  of  his 
business  friends,  and,  on  hearing  of  his  dissipated  hab- 
its, became  confirmed  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  coun- 
tenance. The  father's  influence  succeeded  in  destroying 
the  daughter's  affection  for  him.  The  story'  of  Frank, 
and  of  malign  influences  upon  those  who  should  be  the 
last  to  receive  them,  is  an  "o'er  true  tale"  of  e very-da}^ 
life.  There  is  requisite  no  particular  examples,  for  ev- 
ery village  has  its  one  or  more  instances  of  affections 
stolen  from  the  parent  for  his  offspring  by  a  stepmother, 
to  concentrate  upon  her  offspring  the  accumulated  wealth 


108  DIABY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

of  the  former  marriage,  regardless  tliat  her  husband's 
legitimate  heirs  to  that  wealth  go  beggaring  through  the 
world.  Such  are  an  abomination ;  and  for  such  there  is 
a  retributive  justice,  if  not  in  their  conscience,  in  the 
fading  away  of  every  happiness  they  hope  to  clasp  or 
have  laid  to  their  hearts. 

Of  all  patients,  those  afflicted  with  the  cholera  are  the 
most  repelling.  When  the  duties  of  a  nurse  or  attend- 
ant are  detailed,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  dis- 
ease spreads  through  a  house  or  district,  or  even  hangs 
around  the  spot  for  weeks  after,  and  insinuates  its  poison 
in  the  new-comer.  We  generally,  on  our  visits,  smoked 
cigars,  or  kept  in  the  mouth  a  camphor  cigarette.  Cof- 
fee or  sugar,  burned  on  coals,  was  constantly  used  to 
disinfect  the  atmosphere  of  the  room,  and  where  the  bed- 
ding or  floor  was  soiled,  chloride  of  lime  was  sprinkled. 
Even  with  all  these  the  stomach  became  so  nauseated 
that  only  brandy  or  nature  could  relieve  it. 

I  told  Frank  he  must  go  home,  eat  a  substantial  break- 
fast, and  walk  or  rest  until  evening.  The  two  children 
and  old  woman  were  out  of  danger ;  the  mother  and  a 
boy  were  the  only  ones  I  had  fears  of.  The  former  in- 
sisted, also,  upon  Frank's  going,  saying  that  the  old  man 
could  serve  when  the  nurse  could  not.  That  night  I 
was  full  of  engagements.  I  left  word  at  home  of  the 
neighborhood  I  was  visiting.  At  ten  o'clock  a  note 
was  sent  to  me  thence.  It  was  from  Frank,  and  almost 
illegibly  scrawled  in  pencil.  I  read  "cholera,"  and 
"hasten."  I  repaired  to  his  room  immediately,  where 
I  found  him  surrounded  by  several  of  the  lodgers,  rub- 
bing his  limbs,  while  he  was  suffering  from  excruciating 
cramps. 

"  Oh,  you  have  come  at  last  1"  said  he  to  me.  "  Give 
me  laudanum  or  poison,  if  you  are  my  friend,  or  take 
the  pitcher  and  dash  out  my  brains.  Where  is  the 
doctor  ?" 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  109 

It  is  most  painful  for  me  to  attend  in  sickness  an  ac- 
quaintance or  a  friend,  for  my  usefalness  is  impaired  by 
a  want  of  decision  consequent  upon  tlie  enlistment  of 
too  much  sympathy.  "When  I  witnessed  the  tears  shed 
by  his  recent  acquaintances  from  seeing  so  much  suffer- 
ing, I  could  scarcely  master  mine.  Steadily  they  rubbed 
him,  changing  their  positions  as  the  cramps  or  parts  af- 
fected were  pointed  out  by  him.  Having  previously 
used  up  the  mixture  of  Cannon,  I  hastened  to  an  apothe- 
cary, ordering  hot  water  to  be  carried  up  as  I  passed 
out.  On  returning,  I  made  a  strong  mustard-bath  in  a 
tub ;  in  a  basin  I  made  a  thick  paste  of  mustard,  with 
warm  water,  which,  put  on  bandages  torn  from  a  shirt, 
we  quickly  enveloped  his  limbs  with.  Another  sina- 
pism on  the  epigastrium,  and  a  wine-glass  of  raw  brandy, 
largely  dashed  with  Cayenne,  given  him  to  drink,  in  a 
few  minutes  drove  away  all  pain,  and  prepared  him  for 
the  visit  of  the  physician.  The  suddenness  of  the  change 
was  owing  to  the  sensitiveness  of  the  skin,  which  had 
undergone  severe  rubbing.  He  yet  lay  dangerously 
low;  the  pulse  imperceptible  to  the  touch,  and  other 
symptoms  as  alarming.  The  physician's  presence  was  a 
relief.  Frequent  doses  of  calomel  were  given,  the  effects 
of  which  were  simultaneous  with,  or  perhaps  caused,  a 
flow  of  perspiration,  which  now  came  from  him.  He 
slept,  and  in  half  an  hour  opened  his  eyes,  which  ex- 
hibited the  dreamy  expression  indicating  coma  or  stu- 
por. Suddenly  the  eyes,  which  did  not  seem  to  convey 
to  the  retina  the  impression  of  what  was  before  them, 
appeared  to  recognize  us  all. 

"Doctor,  I  want  brandy." 

"Give  him  brandy,  and  whatever  he  wants,  but  con- 
tinue the  enema  until  effectual." 

As  the  poultices  now  gave  him  pain,  we  took  them 
off,  and  with  feathers  passed  sweet  oil  over  the  blistered 
parts.    The  brandy  continued  to  reheve  him  from  pain, 


110  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

without  agitating  his  pulse.  Later  in  the  night  he  look- 
ed composed,  and  spoke  as  if  in  complete  control  of  his 
faculties.  His  eyes  were  sunken,  but  bright ;  the  skin 
of  his  forehead  tense ;  his  nose  thin  and  pinched,  and  his 
complexion  clear  as  a  child's,  but  all  like  the  counte- 
nance of  one  lingering  for  years  with  the  consumption. 
Calling  me  to  him,  he  said, 

"  How  are  my  pets?"  alluding  to  his  Irish  patients. 

"Doing  well,  and  out  of  danger,"  I  rephed. 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it." 

He  spoke  then  of  the  real  pleasure  he  experienced  in 
attending  the  sick ;  that  it  would  have  become  a  passion 
with  him  had  he  undergone  a  probation  in  its  duties 
when  prosperity  beamed  on  him ;  that  even  now  the 
relief  to  his  mind  in  doing  good  was  so  great  that  he 
felt  he  had  something  to  live  for,  and  that  it  were  cow- 
ardice to  listen  to  the  suggestions  of  despair.  "  As  soon 
as  I  get  well,"  continued  he,  "  count  on  me  as  one  of 
you." 

"  Get  well  first,  and  then  we  will  talk  it  over." 

"  Do  you  mean  by  that  that  I  will  not  get  well  ?  Ex- 
cept from  weakness,  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life." 

As  he  said  this  he  placed  a  finger  on  his  wrist,  and 
held  it  there  for  a  minute,  looking  at  me. 

"By  Heaven!  I  have  no  pulse.  Am  I  djdng?  Tell 
me,  for  God's  sake !  and  no  considerate  equivocation,  for 
I  have  much  to  prepare  and  to  say.  Do  not  deceive  me, 
for  I  have  never  seen  a  death,  and  can  not  tell." 

"You  are  not  dying,  Frank,  but  you  are  in  that  crit- 
ical stage  where  life  hangs  upon  a  hair.  There  is  no 
positive  certainty  that  you  will  die,  as  there  is  none  that 
you  will  recover.  It  is  always  well  to  be  prepared  for 
the  worst  in  an  insidious  disease  like  this,  if  in  doing  so 
it  will  not  excite  your  mind.  Be  composed,  and  it  may 
be  a  relief  to  you  to  communicate  to  me  your  com- 
mnnrlR.'' 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  Ill 

His  voice  faltered  as  he  spoke  catchingly :  "  In  my  ar- 
moire  you  will  find  a  package — see  if  it  is  there — in  the 
drawer — yes — that  is  it' — hand  it  to  me :  if  I  die — send 
it  to  my  wife — together  with  this  letter.  I  wrote  it  when 
I  thought  death  would  shortly  follow  my  dissipation. 
In  it  I  have  said  every  thing." 

He  opened  the  package,  and  exposed  a  daguerreotype 
of  his  wife,  children,  and  himself  in  a  group.  With  it 
open  before  him,  his  expression  was  the  picture  of  grief 
in  painful  effort  to  be  relieved  by  tears.  He  caught  my 
eye,  shook  his  head,  saying,  ''Is  it  possible  I  shall  see 
them  no  more?"  then  handed  the  parcel  to  me.  He 
said  his  lawyer  had  liis  business  in  his  hands,  and  that 
he  had  nothing  to  say  on  that  score. 

"  Now,  then,  for  a  relief;"  saying  which  his  head  sank 
on  the  pillow,  murmuring  a  request  that  I  would  not 
leave  him  until  he  awoke.  He  did  not  sleep,  however, 
but  rolled  from  one  side  of  the  bed  to  the  other.  The 
physician  having  given  me  little  hopes  of  him,  with  the 
order  to  give  him  w^hat  he  called  for,  I  gave  him  several 
drinks  of  brandy  on  ice.  He  was  disposed  to  talk,  but 
all  my  remonstrances  were  vain.  "  I  am  about  dying," 
said  he,  "  and  it  will  be  a  greater  comfort  to  me  to  speak 
than  to  think." 

"  Do  you  know,  now,  ,  that  those  poor  devils 

with  whom  I  spent  happier  hours  than  any  convivial 
ones  I  can  refer  to,  are  uppermost  in  my  thoughts.  That 
short  period  seems  crowded  with  more  life,  and  with 
more  that  is  worth  living  for,  than  all  existence  previ- 
ous. I  have  been  passing  my  days,  like  most  of  people, 
knowing  or  seeing  no  one  but  myself,  or  those  that  were 
a  part  of  me.  In  the  mean  time,  the  dollar  thrown  away 
in  idle  luxury  would  have  raised  a  smile  of  gratitude  to 
God  amid  numberless  objects  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
my  extravagance.  Never  before  this  have  I  felt  as  a 
man,  or  analyzed  my  feelings  to  know  their  virtue.    As 


112  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

the  future  was  almost  a  certainty  of  happiness  and  pros- 
perity to  me,  I  judged  that  it  was  equally  so  to  all." 

Frank  had  not  studied  that  the  world  and  all  that 
therein  is  is  balanced  by  the  evenhanded  justice  of  God. 
He  had  been  led  to  believe,  with  Bias,  "that  the  major- 
ity are  wicked,"  from  seeing  inconsistencies  which  he 
deemed  imperfections,  and  from  drawing  inferences  from 
his  isolated  condition.  In  the  constant  excitement  of 
antagonistic  forces  in  organic  as  well  as  inorganic  mat- 
ter, the  world  is  as  the  Creator  wished  it  to  be.  "  He 
made  us,  and  not  we  ourselves."  As  virtue  is  hidden, 
and  vice  parades  its  shameless  loathfulness,  it  is  too  fre- 
quently the  conviction  that  the  latter  prevails.  We 
have  but  to  tempt  or  assail  the  former  to  see  its  strength. 
The  display  of  the  latter  bristles  up  the  former  in  armor, 
over  which  time,  like  decay,-  makes  of  it  a  germ  of  re- 
productive good.  Nature's  laws  are  never  broken  by 
mind  or  matter,  though  it  seems  otherwise.  Each  has  its 
organization  for  necessity.  Frank  would  have  pitied  his 
patients,  and  did  think  them  miserable  indeed ;  but  he 
found  them,  under  afflictions  tenfold  worse  than  his,  hap- 
pier than  he,  as  they  were,  equally  so  with  him,  in  their 
humble  prosperity.  This  was  an  accommodation  of  na- 
ture to  circumstances  that  never  struck  him  before.  He 
never  perceived  that  true  happiness  consisted  in  being 
reconciled  to  one's  lot,  and  true  courage  in  not  sinking 
■under  it. 

In  detailing  the  remarks  of  Frank  with  Boswellian 
precision — for  my  memory  is  extraordinarily  tenacious 
where  my  attention  has  been  enlisted — I  desire  to  be 
understood  by  my  readers  that  his  opinions  are  given 
with  no  other  view  than  to  show  the  direction  or  turn 
of  mind  of  one  on  the  brink  of  eternity.  At  the  same 
time,  they  would  be  shorn  of  their  proportions  if  I 
thought  them  to  conflict  with,  or  suggestive  of  even  a 
sneer  at,  moralit}^ 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  113 

As  in  yellow  fever,  so  in  cliolera,  it  is  not  nncommon 
to  find  in  patients,  after  mortification  has  commenced, 
and  the  brain  has  not  been  congested,  a  vigor  of  mind 
and  a  clearness  of  perception  unnoticed  before  in  inter- 
course with  them.  It  has  been  often  remarked,  too, 
when  artificial  or  external  influences  cease,  as  in  a  few 
hours  before  death,  that  the  store-house  of  the  memory 
is  thrown  open,  and  things  buried  since  youth  or  college 
exercise  strive  for  utterance.  Eapid  recitations  from 
Horace  or  Yirgil,  the  problems  of  Euclid,  and  other  sub- 
jects which  interested  attention  at  one  time,  but  were 
never  called  wp  since,  are  strangely  mixed  up  with  the 
phantasms  of  the  wandering  mind. 

*'My  friends,"  continued  Frank,  "with  all  the  de- 
nunciations against  human  nature  instilled  into  us  in 
early  youth,  with  our  own  experience  of  wrongs  which 
impress  us  for  a  time  of  the  truthfulness  of  its  corrup- 
tion, we  have  no  instance  of  other  than  bigots  who  have 
anathematized  the  world  as  bad.  An  extreme  of  good- 
ness 16  constantly  counteracting  an  extreme  of  vice. 
The  constituents  of  true  merit,  which  are  a  purity  of 
morals  and  justness  of  sentiments,  sweetness  of  manners, 
knowledge  of  one's  self  and  the  world,  a  solid  and  regu- 
lar piety,  seasoned  with  an  attention  to  decency  and  a 
benevolent  esteem  of  others,  are  as  prominent  in  indi- 
viduals as  their  opposites.  Afflictions  and  sorrows,  uni- 
versal and  frequent  as  they  are,  have  a  tendency  to 
bring  in  question  the  goodness  of  Grod  and  the  designs 
of  creation ;  yet,  in  the  face  of  this,  we  know  of  com- 
munities of  men  and  women  who,  like  the  anchorites  of 
old,  continually  punish  the  body,  the  better  to  prepare 
for  and  participate  in  the  joys  of  a  future  life.  As  I  be- 
lieve in  a  spiritual  existence  after  death,  so  do  I  believe 
that  a  man's  capacity  to  enjoy  it  will  greatly  depend 
upon  his  afflictions  and  sorrows  before  it.  Just  as  is 
the  patient  on  arising  from  a  bed  of  sickness,  who  en- 


114  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

joys  a  renovated  healtli  more  than  he  did  before  the 
contrast  presented  itself;  or,  for  a  more  homely  illus- 
tration, in  the  case  of  a  really  temperate  man,  who  does 
not  enjoy  or  appreciate  sobriety  so  much  as  he  who  has 
been  an  inebriate." 

He  paused  for  a  few  minutes. 

"No,  no,"  he  continued,  "I  have  never  thought  of 
the  moment  coming  upon  me  when  I  should  have  to 
contemjDlate  death,  and  I  am  now,  for  the  first  time, 
awakened  to  a  responsibility  for  my  past  life.  I  came 
into  life  without  knowing  it,  and  without  reflection  of 
its  value  as  an  educational  stage  for  another.  I  now 
find  myself  on  the  point  of  leaving  it.  Like  the  oars- 
man, I  have  rowed  one  way  and  looked  another.  Still, 
I  am  not  so  bad.  When  I  have  sinned  against  the  pro- 
priety of  God  and  man,  it  has  been  through  impulse,  not 
premeditation.  My  sins  were  more  of  omission  than 
commission.  Among  the  former,  the  gravest  thrt  chide 
me  are  induced  from  the  well-spent  hours  of  the  past 
two  days,  for  in  that  time  was  centred  more  of  real 
hapjoiness  than  in  all  the  excitements  of  years  jDrevious. 
Accident,  or  rather  Providence,  has  ojDcned  to  me,  I  fear 
too  late  to  be  enjoyed  more,  the  mystery  of  life,  sealed 
to  all  else  but  those  who  love  to  do  good  for  the  good 
it  does  them.  I  tell  you  I  would  rather  do  a  kindness 
and  speak  a  word  of  hope  to  those  Irish  pets  of  mine, 
than  be  restored  to  my  former  position  in  life,  wanting 
a  sense  of  this  gratification." 

I  thought  myself  enthusiastic,  but  he  outstripped  me. 
His  eulogy  was  no  less  a  noble  tribute  to  charity  than 
it  was  honorable  to  human  nature,  by  showing  that  the 
quality  is  instinctive,  and  only  waits  the  opportunity 
for  exercise.  Charity  is  as  cardinal  a  principle  of  hu- 
manity as  it  is  a  cardinal  virtue  in  all  rehgions.  Men 
differ  in  nice  points  of  sectarian  belief  with  unmitigated 
hate  and  persecution;  yet  the  anomaly  presents  itself 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  115 

of  all  religions  making  good  works  the  test  of  worth, 
and  charity  the  handmaid  to  faith. 

"Now,  my  friends,"  he  continued,  "consider  my  words 
as  those  of  a  dying  man.  You  will  never  have  such  a 
consequential  opinion  of  yourselves  as  when  you  have 
done  a  favor  or  a  benefit  unasked  and  unexpected. 
Our  claims  upon  society  in  certain  cases  are  recognized 
and  met  from  motives  of  mutual  protection.  What  we 
do  for  each  other  has  neither  the  grateful  essence  nor  the 
generous  disinterestedness  of  real  charity.  Strike  into 
another  path.  Do  as  I  have  done.  Go,  if  you  will, 
sneakingly,  in  the  obscurity  of  night,  and  enter  a  hovel 
or  an  humble  dwelling,  perhaps  next  door  to  your  resi- 
dence ;  inquire  into  the  condition  of  its  inmates — of  peo- 
]Aq  who  can  not  make  enough  to  lay  by  for  a  sick  day 
or  for  old  age.  They  have  no  claims  on  you ;  it  is  not 
their  right  to  look  to  you.  Eelieve  their  wants,  and  en- 
courage them  in  their  despondency  about  the  future. 
When  you  shall  have  closed  the  door  between  you  and 
them,  a  feeling  akin  to  affinity  with  angels  will  make 
the  tear  glisten  in  your  eye  with  joy  at  the  good  you 
have  done,  and  make  you  to  know  the  existence  of  a 
chain  of  dependency  through  all  nature,  which  to  up- 
hold is  happiness — which  to  break  is  discord  and  mis- 
ery. You  all  know  what  politeness  will  do.  Heartless 
and  hypocritical  as  are  the  idle  words  and  ceremonies 
patented  in  good  society,  there  is  a  fascination  in  the  ex- 
ercise that  cheats  the  fancy  into  self-approbation.  How 
much  more  satisfaction  is  received  and  given  when  the 
words  and  performances  are  sincere,  and  spring  sponta- 
neous to  good- will.  O  God,  I  desire  to  live,  if  only  for 
this.  Do  you  not  know  that  you  have  every  day  an 
opportunity  of  adding  to  your  happiness  by  little  acts 
of  kindness  ?  One  thing  strikes  me  now,  in  my  own 
situation  :  some  of  my  business  acquaintances,  who  pos- 
sessed more  friendship  for  me  than  I  had  supposed,  in- 


116  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAlRITAN". 

formed  others  that,  if  they  thought  I  would  not  have 
been  encouraged  and  set  up  by  those  whom  I  had  a 
claim  on  for  assistance,  they  were  satisfied  of  my  honor, 
and  would  have  done  it,  but  that  my  reckless  life  of  late, 
while  it  for  the  first  time  opened  their  eyes  to  my  desert- 
ed condition,  shut  me  out  from  all  symjDathy.  But  did 
these  last  do  their  duty,  as  they  would  be  done  by? 
Why  did  they  not  see,  by  asking,  that  I  was  abandoned 
byaU?    Even—" 

I  saw  that  he  was  moved  by  a  drift  of  thoughts  to  a 
touching  theme,  and  begged  him  not  to  talk  so  much. 

"Oh,  let  me  talk;  I  can  not  think  merely;  and  if 
no  one  will  listen,  I'll  talk  nevertheless.  All  that  I  have 
been  saying  comes  from  my  heart  and  from  my  expe- 
rience. I  should  have  no  regrets  for  ill  usage,  for  I  did 
not  make  my  complaints  in  the  right  quarter.  I  will 
not  bear  censure,  for  the  neglect  of  one  may  have  been 
from  the  best  of  motives.  Were  I  permitted  to  extend 
my  lease  of  life,  rather  than  err  by  one  refusal,  I  would 
bestow  alms  on  every  beggar  that  crossed  my  path. 
Like  to  the  husbandman — " 

Here  a  violent  cramp  seized  him,  from  which,  in  a  few 
minutes,  he  felt  relieved  by  a  potion.  As  he  felt  again 
inclined  to  speak,  I  asked  if  it  would  not  be  consoling  to 
him  to  have  the  attendance  of  a  minister. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  he  replied.  "  My  mind  is  so  cahn- 
ly  and  sweetly  settled  on  the  pleasures  and  joys  of  a  fu- 
ture life,  that  I  would  not  have  it  disturbed  by  the  com- 
monplaces of  dying  consolations.  I  have  made  but  one 
step  in  the  scale  of  existence.  When  I  shall  place  my 
foot  upon  another,  with  the  experiences  of  this  world 
and  my  present  convictions  to  direct  me,  a  vista  of  use- 
fulness will  open  to  me  there  too.  Peace  and  good-will 
must  have  their  laborers  as  well  there  as  here.  A  low- 
er and  more  humble  worker  than  1  am  may  be  met,  to 
whom  comfort  and  assistance  may  be  extended,  to  raise 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  117 

him  nearer  to  the  throne  of  grace.  It  may  be  my  lot 
to  bear  the  cup  of  cold  water  to  the  parched  lips  of  one 
more  miserable  than  I.  Death  has  never  had  the  ter- 
rors for  me  that  religion  would  impress  us  with.  Re- 
ligion fulfills  its  purpose  in  teaching  control  and  subjuga- 
tion of  our  passions.  The  mystery  of  another  existence 
is  vaguely  shadowed  forth  in  earthly  comparisons.  Ev- 
ery man  forms  his  heaven  or  hell,  his  happiness  or  his 
misery,  his  good  Father  or  his  awful  Judge,  according 
to  the  tenor  of  his  life,  not  from  the  teachings  of  the 
schools.  The  Indian  and  the  Christian  are  alike  in  the 
eyes  of  their  Maker,  though  their  God  be  different.  He 
opens  an  eternity  to  all,  and  to  each  for  a  design  that  is 
for  the  promotion  and  happiness  of  all." 

Again  he  became  uneasy.  Occasional  hiccoughs 
augured  an  early  dissolution.  We  sat  round  his  bed, 
offering  him,  by  words  and  attentions,  all  the  consolation 
and  comfort  in  our  power.  Seeing  us  affected,  he  re- 
marked, 

"  You  do  not  sorrow  for  me,  my  friends ;  you  should 
not.  Rather  rejoice  and  envy  that,  having  passed  man's 
estate,  with  faculties  to  appreciate  goodness  and  virtue, 
I  soar  to  my  high  destiny  before  you.  Every  day  of 
farther  existence,  not  passed  as  my  latter  ones  were, 
might  be  with  increased  corruption.  So  do  not  weep 
for  me — rather  for  yourselves." 

I  hinted  to  him  that  if  there  was  any  thing  he  desired 
to  be  done  after  death,  he  had  better  speak  it  now. 

"But  one:  it  is  this.  Fill  up,  all  round,  to  the  dy- 
ing sentiment  of  a  grateful  heart,  and  deem  it  ]iot  blas- 
phemy." 

Glasses  of  brandy  and  water  were  handed  to  each. 
We  held  them  in  suspense  for  five  minutes,  all  the  while 
he  gazing  into  the  tumbler,  apparently  concentrating 
his  thoughts  upon  what  he  was  about  to  utter.  In  deep- 
toned,  solemn  voice,  with  eyes  closed  and  uplifted  glass 
clasped  ^'ilh  both  hands,  he  gave  out, 


118  DIARY   or  A  SAMARITAN. 

"Here's  to  the  Almighty  God,  wliose  dispensations 
are  in  wonderful  contrast  to  our  acknowledgments  and 
appreciation  ;  wliose  vast  machinery  of  creation  was  set 
in  motion  for  our  use  and  good,  and  who  gave  us  death, 
to  strike  from  us  the  shackles  of  sinful  flesh,  that  our 
spirit  may  soar  free  through  the  ever-regenerating  stages 
of  immortahty.     Here's  to  the  Almighty  God  !" 

Mechanically  we  carried,  simultaneous  with  him,  the 
glass  to  our  lips,  and  drank  in  silent  awe.  No  sooner 
had  we  drained  the  contents  than  he  cast  his  glass  on 
the  hearth,  shivering  it  to  pieces ;  mechanically  again 
we  obeyed  his  impulse,  all  possessed  with  the  same 
sentiment  that  it  were  sacrilege  to  put  the  glasses  to  a 
baser  use  afterward.  He  bowed  his  head  approvingly, 
extended  his  hand  to  each  of  us,  and  gently  pressed 
them  a  farewell.  The  opiates  and  excitement  of  thought 
were  now  sensibly  affecting  him:  he  was  sinking  fast. 
While  we  sat  around  his  bed,  each  busy  with  his  own 
reflections,  Frank's  eye  was  fixed  on  one  or  tke  other  of 
us  with  a  look  expressive  of  weariness,  as  if  to  say,  "I 
will  not  trouble  you  long ;  death  is  near."  Silence  was 
soon  startled  with  a  painful  exclamation  from  him  of 
"0  God,  hurry  me  away!"  and  instantly  thereafter  a 
violent  spasm  seized  him.  "There  it  is — there  it  is!" 
he  exclaimed,  as  the  convulsion  ceased.  "  Oh,  beautiful ! 
Pardon  them,  and  bring  then'  hearts  to  Thee,  my  Maker. 
"What !  my  Kate  and  son  do  not  see  their  father  ?  Speak 
to  me  again.    One  kiss — ah !  it  burns.    Take  her  away." 

His  mind  continued  to  wander,  and  vague  expressions 
to  escape  from  him — now  plaintive,  then  angry — till  the 
throes  of  death  came  upon  him,  and  all  consciousness 
ceased.  While  the  limbs  were  flexible  he  was  washed, 
dressed,  and  laid  on  the  bed,  preparatory  to  being 
cofiined.  Before  the  lid  was  put  on,  agreeably  to  his 
request,  we  placed  within  the  cof&n  the  daguerreotypes, 
and  trinkets,  and  broken  plavthinc'S  that  once  belonofed 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  119 

to  his  cliildren.  Six  of  his  friends  followed  him  to  the 
grave :  there  one  of  us  read  the  beaiitifal  and  impressive 
burial  service  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  before  the 
oven  was  closed  threw  in  sprigs  of  cypress  and  our 
mourning  badges.  It  is  not  uncommon,  during  an  epi- 
demic, for  funerals  to  be  unattended  to  the  grave  by  the 
clergy.  Their  numerous  engagements  will  not  allow 
them  more  than  to  perform  the  service  at  the  domicil 
of  the  deceased,  especially  if  the  latter  be  of  the  humbler 
portion  of  their  congregation.  It  is  held  to  be  horrible 
by  the  Catholic  poor  to  omit  this  service  to  one  of  their 
faith,  and  not  an  instance  of  neglect  ever  came  to 
my  notice.  In  the  other  denominations  the  ministers 
are  from  the  North,  or  abroad,  and,  while  instances  of 
desertion  from  fear  of  the  disease  are  numerous,  thert 
are  noble  examples  of  the  soldiers  of  Christ  who  have 
battled  through  their  duties,  some  falling  victims  to 
their  zeal.  During  the  long  ride  to  and  from  the  ceme- 
tery we  were  engaged  in  recapitulating  the  past  life  of 
the  departed,  and  the  incidents  and  sayings  of  his  latter 
days. 

From  the  only  letter  which  was  among  his  effects  I 
became  now  informed  of  the  principal  cause  of  his  self- 
abasement.  She  who  should  have  comforted  and  sup- 
ported him  through  affliction,  upbraided  him  for  his 
extravagance  in  ruining  the  prospects  of  his  children, 
when,  too,  that  extravagance  was  the  incense  of  his  idol- 
atry to  her  love  and  beauty.  His  establishment  and 
entertainments  lost  to  her,  he  was  no  longer  worthy  of 
her  affections.  Her  letter  said,  but  in  other  words,  that 
her  pride  could  brook  no  diminution  to  her  influence  in 
fashionable  circles,  and  that  she  saw  in  his  bankruptcy 
nothing  but  the  triumphant  envy  of  her  rivals  and  the 
sneers  of  the  malicious.  She  wished  him  well,  but  to 
return  to  him  Vv^s  impossible,  as  it  would  make  her  un- 
happy to  witness  the  humihation  of  his  employment  by 


120  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

another,  while  it  would  harass  him  by  addmg  to  his 
expenses. 

Two  years  afterward  I  received  a  letter  from  her,  ask- 
ing me  for  particulars  of  his  death,  having  heard  that  I 
had  placed  a  trunk  of  his  effects  in  his  attorney's  hands. 
She  reproached  herself  for  deserting  him,  and  said  she 
had  retired  from  the  world  a  changed  and  repentant 
woman — that  she  lived  only  in  the  past,  and  for  the 
future  of  her  children.  Later  than  this  I  heard  that  her 
father  fell  into  bankruptcy,  hopelessly,  helplessly  broken, 
and  that  she  had  become  the  wife  of  another  for  the 
support  of  her  offspring. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

Epidemic  of  1853. — The  ag^^avated  Type  of  Fever. — The  Howard  As- 
sociation comine.nces.S£J^Tice. — Physicians  volunteer. — Our  Funds. — 
Assume  the  Duties  of  a  Board  of  Health. — Extraordinary  lufliix  of 
Relief.— Our  Members. — Our  Duties. — St.  PhilFp  Street  Boarding- 
houses. — Filth  of  Premises. — Maison  de  Sante. — A  Swiss  Family. — 
Our  paid  Physicians. — Two  Doctors  destroy  each  other's  Prescrip- 
tions.— The  Patients  recover. — Increase  of  Sick. — Members  use  Cabs 
to  visit. 

Quis  dabit  capiti  meo 

Aquam  ?     Quis  oculis  meis 

Fontem  lachi-jTnanim  dabit? 

Ut  nocte  fleam 

Ut  luce  fleam 

Sic  tirtur — 

Heu  miser,  miser : 

O  dolor,  dolor. 

The  summer  of  1853  introduced  to  all  benevolent  in- 
stitutions in  New  Orleans  greater  trials,  with  correspond- 
ing triumphs,  than  had  ever  presented  themselves.  The 
most  fatal,  because  the  most  complicated,  yellow  fever 
ever  known  to  exist  surprised  the  citizens  this  year. 
Every  questionable  symptom  of  what  is  called  simple 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  121 

yellow  fever  had  so  engrossed  the  close  attention  of  the 
faculty  for  some  years  previous,  that  the  merest  tyro 
in  physic  could  not  mistake  the  Simon  Pure.  The 
few  cases,  however,  that  ushered  in  this  great  epidemic 
raised  a  dispute  among  the  faculty  as  to  its  genuineness. 
The  diagnosis  was  far  from  being  made  with  unanimity. 
With  farther  experience,  they  settled  down  in  opinion 
that  all  were  right  and  all  were  wrong.  It  was  found 
that  the  disease  was  an  aggravation  of  former  ones ;  that 
phlebotomy,  or  cupping,  indispensable  to  former  treat- 
ment, was  fatal  in  this.  Before  the  disease  became  epi- 
demic, the  shining  lights  of  the  profession  had  adopted 
a  practice  which  became  general,  because  it  proved  suc- 
cessful. The  pride  of  opinion  and  theory,  natural  to  in- 
tense study,  had  to  succumb  to  the  practical  effects  of 
experience.  Our  Charity  Hospital,  which  is  the  hygei- 
ameter  of  this  latitude,  as  it  is  the  great  school  of  medi- 
cine for  tropical  complaints,  was  daily  visited  to  observe 
treatments  and  results.  For  once  in  the  history  of  man 
or  medicine,  the  general  consultation  resulted  in  the  uni- 
form opinion  of  the  savans  that  the  mode  of  treatment 
should  be  altered  to  meet  the  extraordinary  symptoms 
that  had  invaded  the  diagnosis.  The  only  questionable 
point  at  issue  was  the  benefit  to  be  derived  from  the  ad- 
ministering of  quinine.  Prejudice  still  holds  strong  pro 
and  con.^  while  practice  and  experience  leaves  it  an  open 
question.  As  I  progress  in  the  details  of  numerous  in- 
teresting cases,  without  reflecting  upon  either  practice, 
the  reader  may  draw  his  own  inference.  Where  quinine 
has  been  faithless  to  its  purpose  in  extraordinary  cases, 
it  has  been  wonderfully  curative  in  others. 

Early  in  the  month  of  July  the  Charity  Hospital  was 
filled  even  to  its  corridors  with  yellow-fever  patients. 
The^citj^c^uncd  had^ac^  in_vain  to 

organize  a  Board.  of-Health.  The  streets  were  in  the 
most  foul  condition  ;  the  ])utrid  water  of  the  gutters  was 

F 


122  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

covered  with  a  thick  green  vegetable  scum,  from  which 
exhaled  a  sickening  odor ;  showers  of  rain  were  frequent, 
without  thunder  and  lightning,  and  the  temperature  as 
variable  as  the  weathercock.  Business  being  at  its  usual 
periodical  stagnancy,  the  knots  of  talkers  at  the  corners 
and  elsewhere  were  occupied  in  giving  the  rumors  and 
circulating  their  experience.  Alarm  prevailed  through- 
out the  city.  Before  matters  reached  this  point,  the 
Howard  Association  had  gone  quietly  to  work.  We 
were  requested  by  editors  and  merchants  to  withhold 
publication  of  our  acts,  as  the  re]Dort  of  an  ej)idemic — 
which  might  yet  be  checked — would  entail  severe  loss 
on  merchants  and  shop-keepers.  The  apothecaries  se- 
lected by  us  to  fill  prescriptions  for  our  sick  were  sup- 
plied with  slates,  on  which  they  directed  applicants  for 
rehef  to  write  their  names  and  residences.  The  mem- 
bers of  their  respective  districts  looked  in  at  these  places 
twice  a  day,  and  when  the  patient  could  not  be  removed 
to  the  hospital,  he  was  furnished  physician  and  nurse 
under  their  superintendence.  From  the  first  intimation 
of  the  presence  of  fever,  we  were  offered  the  services  of 
twenty  physicians  gratis.  Our  treasury,  not  having  over 
$5000  in  it,  was  too  low  to  admit  of  paying  for  more 
than  medicine  and  sustenance  for  the  j)Oor.  When  we 
became  fairly  under  way,  the  accession  of  medical  vol- 
unteers was  greater  than  we  could  employ.  The  finance 
committee  of  the  council,  with  whom  was  delegated  powd- 
ers for  emergencies,  could  not  agree  upon  an  appropria- 
tion to  us.  We  determined  to  act  independently;  to 
call  upon  the  citizens  for  aid,  and  to  assume  the  duties 
of  a  Board  of  Health.  We  accordingly  published  in  the 
paper  a  proclamation  that  an  epidemic  was  raging  in  our 
midst,  and  furnished  the  daily  returns  of  interments  to 
confirm  it.  We  gave,  also,  the  names  and  residences  of 
members,  physicians,  and  apothecaries  upon  whom  the 
poor  and  destitute  could  call.     We  also  announced  that 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  123 

certain  members  would  call  on  the  citizens  for  their  con- 
tribution. Every  body  was  prepared  for  what  we  stated, 
and  many  the  next  day  sent  us  liberally,  with  the  prom- 
ise of  more^  if  wanted.  On  the  first  day  of  collection  we 
received  fifteen  thousand  dollars.  On  that  night  we 
counted  but  eighteen  members,  the  most  of  them  being 
absent  on  business  or  for  their  health.  All  these  did 
us  good  service  throughout  the  country  where  they 
were  by  procuring  subscriptions.  Editors  and  report- 
ers of  papers  could  not  but  see  the  extent  of  distress  in 
their  daily  walks,  and  largely  contributed  to  the  influx 
of  means  from  wherever  the  printed  sheet  was  read. 
"When  the  letters  accomj)anying  donations  from  every 
hamlet,  village,  or  town  of  the  Union  were  read  at  our 
nightly  reunions,  thrills  of  joy,  like  that  which  leaps 
through  the  hearts  of  a  shipwrecked  crew  on  sight  of  a 
sail  coming  to  relief,  pervaded  us.  Thankful  were  we 
that  Providence  had  favored  us  with  being  the  medium 
to  dispense  the  hopes  and  comforts  it  was  to  produce. 
The  Israelites  of  old  were  not  more  dependent,  not  more 
astonished  or  grateful,  upon  the  rain  of  manna  to  ward 
off  death  or  starvation,  than  we  were  at  the  extraordi- 
nary manifestation  of  sympathy.  How  we  have  fulfill- 
ed the  wishes  or  the  hopes  of  the  donors,  these  written 
evidences  can  give  but  a  trifling,  faint  idea.  They  are 
an  inconsiderable  part  of  one  member's  labors — say, 
rather,  pleasures — and  Ms  services  were  far  surpassed 
by  many  of  his  associates.  Many  members,  who  had  de- 
nied their  patients  many  conveniences  and  comforts,  for 
fear  that  the  fund  collected  here  would  soon  be  exhaust- 
ed, now  added  comparative  luxury  to  the  hovels  they 
visited.  The  soiled  mattresses  and  bed-clothes,  seldom 
v/ashed  or  cleansed  from  indispensably  constant  use, 
and  reeking  with  the  effluvia  consequent  thereon,  were 
thrown  aside,  and  replaced  with  new.  Habituated  to 
sleep  upon  the  floor,  they  were  now  raised  up  on  cots, 


124  DIAEY  OF  A   SAMAKITAN. 

freed  from  a  fatal  dampness,  and  open  to  the  ventilation 
of  a  higher  stratum  of  atmosphere.  Utensils  accommo- 
dating to  their  wants  for  cooking,  or  to  prevent  them 
from  rising  from  the  bed,  as  well  as  many  things  which 
even  poverty  calls  for  as  indispensable,  but  which  they 
had  not,  were  furnished  to  them.  The  l3asket  filled  with 
the  daily  quantum  of  provisions  from  the  grocery,  in  ad- 
dition to  their  order  on  the  butcher  for  meat,  with  lem- 
ons for  their  drinks ;  the  daily  supply  of  ice ;  the  luxu- 
ry of  a  fowl  for  the  soup  of  the  convalescent ;  the  rich 
man's  privilege  of  bi-daily  visit  from  a  physician ;  the 
attendance  of  a  nurse,  and  our  sujDcrvision  of  all,  were 
well  calculated  to  awaken  their  astonishment,  as  they 
did  win  their  confidence,  and  inspire  hope  and  gratitude. 
It  was  not  the  abject  poor  that  alone  participated  in  the 
bounty  of  oufTIispensations;  Those  of  a  better  class — 
the  mechanic,  the  small  shop-keeper,  and'  the  widowed 
family  pinched  to  live  upon  a  fixed  pittance  — these, 
when  disease  would  strike  in  their  midst,  were  soon  ex- 
haustedjof  means  by  the  purchase  of  medicines ;  farther 
wants  drove  them  to  sacrifice  their  furniture  to  the  pawn- 
broker or  at  auction.  At  the  very  last  extremity,  their 
honest  pride,  to  be  independent  of  alms,  yielded  to  the 
suggestion,  advice,  and  persuasions  of  kind  neighbors  to 
claim  from  us  what  was  their  rights.  As  the°epidemic 
drew  to  a  close,  our  duties  were  chiefly  of  a  rehef  char- 
acter to  this  class.  Business  had  been  suspended,  and 
not  yet  resumed.  A  worse  epidemic  than  even  sickness 
itself  is  want.  Such,  whose  delicacy  forbade  them  to 
ask,  or  would  not  come  to  us  when  advised,  were  sought 
for,  and  their  scruples  overcome.  We  were  made  the 
confidants  of  distress  which  we  did  not  communicate  to 
each  other,  and  which  to  all  intents  and  pur^Doses  we 
have  forgotten.  To  a  curiosity  which  would  look  to  be 
gratified  by  any  developments  in  that  respect  in  what  I 
am  about  to  relate,  there  will  be  sure  disappointment. 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  125 

The  duties  of  an  association  whicli  commanded  the 
patronage  of  the  whole  country,  and  which  has,  by  its 
reputation,  caused  to  be  estabhshed  and  fostered  similar 
ones  elsewhere,  are  worthy  of  particular  note.  The  con- 
stant call  for  our  services,  and  the  increased  and  extend- 
ed field  for  operations,  required  a  specification  of  duty 
and  an  equanimity  of  action  which  could  in  no  other 
way  be  accomplished  than  by  meeting  together  every 
night  for  at  least  half  an  hour,  to  provide  for  contingen- 
cies and  exigencies  which  we  had  not  foreseen.  To  sup- 
ply the  places  of  absentees,  we  selected  from  the  numer- 
ous applicants  to  make  up  the  number  required  by  the 
Constitution — thirty  members.  These  were  termed  as- 
sistants. Many  who  had  the  heart,  but  not  the  strength, 
resigned  after  a  short  probation.  We  became  finally 
completely  effective.  The  assistants  exercised  all  the 
privileges  of  a  member,  except  having  a  voice  in  our  de- 
liberations. Their  services  proved  of  incalculable  ben- 
efit. Truly  they  worked  con  amore^  and  in  their  untir- 
ing and  enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  patients  they  sur- 
passed many  of  the  members.  Those  who  shared  with 
me  the  portion  of  district  under  my  charge  far  surpass- 
ed me.  At  our  meetings  each  member  gave  a  written 
report  of  the  number  of  cases  under  his  charge,  whether 
convalescent,  sick,  or  discharged,  with  the  number  of 
deaths.  Some,  from  extraordinary  duties,  were  frequent- 
ly absent,  and  made  their  reports  at  convenience.  Com- 
plaints from  any  quarter  were  also  discussed  and  rem- 
edied. Night  after  night,  as  the  work  grew  on  our 
hands,  different  modes  of  relief  were  adopted.  Due-bills 
or  hons^  printed  on  cards,  for  amounts  of  from  fifty  cents 
to  one  dollar,  were  distributed  by  the  member  endorsing 
them,  as  also  tickets  for  a  dime  of  ice  and  twenty  cents 
of  beef.  All  these  passed  as  cash  throughout  the  city, 
as  they  were  prom23tly  paid  by  the  treasurer.  Orders 
for  groceries  were  given,  of  a  week's  duration,  at  from 


126  DIAEY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

twenty-five  to  seventy-five  cents  per  day ;  sometimes  for 
a  week's  supply  at  once.  Where  the  former,  which  was 
renewed  from  week  to  week,  a  pass-book  was  used,  to 
show  the  member  attending  the  quantity  and  quality  of 
the  provisions  taken. 

We  strictly  forbade  the  use  of  spirituous  liquors.  The 
French  emigre,  however,  was  allowed  his  accustomed 
bottle  of  vin  ordinaire,  and  the  German  his  potation  of 
lager.  We  limited  the  pay  of  a  nurse  to  two  dollars  for 
twenty -four  hours,  and  by  an  additional  sum  obtained 
her  services  for  other  patients  in  the  same  building. 
When  we  were  satisfied,  from  the  respectability  of  the 
applicants,  that  our  donations  would  not  be  abused,  we 
gave  to  a  family  sums  of  money  not  exceeding  fifteen 
dollars  at  one  time.  It  was  our  duty  to  bring  the  phy- 
sician to  the  jDatient,  to  visit  the  latter  twice  a  day,  to 
watch  for  any  imposition  toward  him,  to  provide  or  see 
provided  all  his  wants,  so  that  the  question  asked,  ''  Can 
I  do  any  more  for  you  ?"  should  be  responded  negative- 
ly. Where  they  died,  we  either  informed  the  pubhc  of- 
ficer for  that  purpose,  if  there  were  no  objections  of  the 
survivors  to  have  their  relative  buried  by  the  commis- 
sary, or  furnished  a  plain  coffin,  hearse,  and  carriage. 

The  district  in  which  I  exercised  my  duties  was  in- 
habited by  a  different  and  better  class  of  emigrants  than 
any  other.  My  patients  were  principally  French  or 
Grerman.  The  latter  language  was  a  sealed  one  to  me, 
but  I  was  sure  to  find  a  willing  interpreter  in  their  de- 
voted country -people  always  at  hand.  After  noting  the 
name,  age,  and  parentage  of  the  patient,  I  sent  him  a 
physician  and  nurse  who  could  speak  his  own  language. 
Par  2MrentJiese,  I  was  now  becoming  good  enough  a  judge 
of  the  requirements  for  the  cure  of  simple  3^ellow  fever 
to  justify  treatment  when  the  physician  passed  any  in 
his  rounds  from  misdirection,  or  neglect,  or  press  of 
duties. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  127 

The  strongliold  at  the  commencement,  in  my  district, 
was  in  St.  Philip  Street,  near  the  Levee,  where  every 
other  house  has  a  beer-saloon,  with  lodging-rooms  above. 
Isolated  cases  in  private  practice  came  to  my  knowledge 
at  a  distance  from  this  spot.  Here  the  service  of  our 
association  commenced  for  this  district.  It  is  injheu— 
heart  of  the  district.  Having  seen  at  the  hospital  that 
several  cases  had  been  brought  from  St.  Philip  Street,  I 
repaired  there,  and,  through  an  apothecary,  was  furnish- 
ed with  particulars.  After  telling  the  landlords  of  these 
houses  of  my  mission,  they  permitted  me  to  make  a  sur- 
vey of  their  premises.  The  dormitories  and  out-houses 
were  a  fruitful  source  of  disease.  In  rooms  eighteen 
feet  square  there  were  at  least  twelve  cots,  so  close  to- 
gether that  one  man  could  not  pass  another.  In  some 
the  bedding  was  dirty,  the  musquito-netting  filthy,  the 
floors  spotted  with  offensiveness,  and  an  atmosphere 
correspondingly  tainted.  In  most  of  them  I  found  some 
ailing  and  some  sick,  the  former  complaining  only  of 
nervousness  or  headache,  which  a  "little  lager  and  a  lit- 
tle sleep  would  drive  off,"  they  said.  They  would  not 
be  persuaded  that  there  was  any  danger,  nor  would  they 
take  medicine,  or  any  prescription  I  offered.  I  told  them 
to  wait  till  the  morrow.  My  visit  then  obtained  me  the 
urgent  solicitations  of  the  landlord,  as  he  saw  that  one 
death  from  yellow  fever,  likely  now  to  occur  from  ag- 
gravated symptoms,  would  leave  him  without  a  lodger. 
Our  association  had  made  arrangements  with  the  Maison 
de  Sanie,  superintended  by  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  to  re- 
ceive the  sick  of  this  district.  On  the  first  day  I  sent 
off  three,  and  qyqtj  day  thereafter  as  many  or  more. 
In  the  mean  time,,  such  as  had  families  or  friends  to  re- 
sort to  asked  for  attendance  at  their  houses,  which,  if 
single  persons,  was  given  them,  provided  they  furnished 
their  own  nurse ;  otherwise  to  the  hospital  they  were 
sent.     We  never  separated  families  to  send  to  the  in- 


128  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

firmaiies  or  hospitals  unless  there  was  urgent  necessity 
for  so  doing,  such  as  the  foulness,  etc.,  of  the  premises. 
The  greater  part  of  these  Germans  had  been  working  on 
the  Jackson  Kailroad,  where,  they  said,  they  had  been 
for  weeks  drinking  swamp  water.  St.  Philip  Street  oc- 
cupied my  entire  time  for  ten  days,  during  which  near- 
ly fifty  people  had  died  of  the  disease.  In  no  other 
part  of  the  district  did  I  hear  of  any  patients  who  called 
for  the  attention  of  the  association,  yet  the  fever  was 
fearfully  spreading  in  the  other  districts. 

One  morning  my  attention  was  drawn  to  the  exjDOSure 
of  three  coffins  in  the  entry  of  a  house  in  which  I  had 
heard  there  was  some  sickness.  I  had  several  times  been 
refused  admission  by  the  landlord  on  the  ground  that 
there  was  nobody  ill  within.  Upon  requesting  to  know 
the  reason  of  his  deceit,  he  replied  that  his  boarders  had 
means  to  pay  for  a  physician,  and  would  not  accept  the 
aid  of  the  association.  He  told  me  th  at  there  were  also 
others  sick.  These  I  insisted  upon  seeing,  and  was  shown 
up  stairs  to  their  rooms.  The  same  objection  of  cots 
closely  arranged  existed  here  as  elsewhere.  The  floors 
were  cleaner,  the  bed-.linen  appeared  to  be  more  fre- 
quently changed,  and  the  occupants  were  also  of  a  bet- 
ter class  than  in  the  other  houses.  Five  or  six  sick  re- 
fused positively  to  go  to  the  Maison  de  Sante.  They  had 
been  strongly  prejudiced  against  hospitals,  and  express- 
ed themselves  satisfied  with  the  attentions  of  the  pro- 
prietor and  his  wife.  It  did  not  require  close  examina- 
tion to  see  that  they  had  not  the  conveniences  of  a  sick- 
room, which,  with  the  imperfect  ventilation,  diminished 
the  chances  of  recovery.  I  suggested  a  great  deal,  but 
my  remarks  appeared  to  be  received  as  impertinent,  so  I 
left  with  the  remark  that  I  would  call  again  that  even- 
ing. As  I  was  going  out,  I  saw  a  man  with  his  head 
recliaed  upon  a  table  in  the  bar-room.  I  aroused  him, 
and  asked  if  he  felt  sick.     His  eyes  were  much  infected, 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  129 

and  pulse  high.  He  was  only  sick,  he  said,  from  an 
emetic  which  he  took  that  morning,  and  thought  he  had 
caught  a  cokl,  as  his  hmbs  pained  him.  I  used  all  man- 
ner of  entreaties  to  persuade  him  to  be  put  in  a  cab  and 
be  sent  to  the  infirmary ;  but  he,  too,  would  not  listen 
to  me.  That  night  he  died  in  the  most  distressing  par- 
oxysms. When  I  called  in  the  evening,  one  of  the  pa- 
tients, whom  I  had  told  would  not  get  well  if  he  re- 
mained where  he  then  was,  entered  the  bar-room,  sup- 
j)orted  by  two  men,  and,  stopping  at  the  counter,  left 
several  gold  coin,  together  with  the  key  of  his  trunk, 
with  the  proprietor.  He  was  much  pleased  to  see  me, 
and  was  now  satisfied  that  his  best  hopes  for  recovery 
were  in  his  removal  to  one  of  the  hospitals.  I  gave  him 
a  card  of  admission  to  the  infirmary,  where  I  was  pleased 
to  see  him  convalesce  m  a  few  days,  and  be  discharged. 

All  the  vicinity  now  knew  of  the  action  of  the  asso- 
ciation, and,  on  my  appearance  in  the  street,  I  was  met 
by  different  people  requesting  my  attention  to  new  cases. 

In  one  of  these  beer-houses  I  was  shown  by  the  pro- 
prietor to  a  basement  room  of  the  back  building,  occu- 
pied by  a  Swiss,  his  wife,  and  a  child  of  four  years. 
They  were  recently  from  New  York  by  sea,  on  their 
way  to  St.  Louis,  and  were  ignorant  of  any  language 
save  their  vernacular.  They  had  been  ill  for  three  days, 
attended  by  a  skillful  German  physician,  but  they  had 
been  neglectfully  nursed  by  a  woman  they  had  employ- 
ed. Their  clothing,  ornaments,  and  books  on  the  mantle- 
piece  made  it  manifest  that  they  were  as  thrifty  as  in- 
telligent. When  the  object  of  my  visit  was  explained, 
they  looked  at  each  other,  then  at  their  child,  and  with 
a  despairing  look  at  me,  as  if  to  say,  "It  is  too  late  now." 
I  opened  many  complaints  upon  the  nurse,  and  set  about 
myself  to  remedy  deficiencies.  When  I  had  restored 
comparative  comfort,  I  went  out  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
returned  with  a  watchful  and  experienced  nurse.    With 

F2 


130  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

all  her  assiduous  care,  and  the  frequent  visits  of  the 
physician,  the  applications  and  remedies  were  ineffectu- 
al. Whether  to  attribute  so  marked  a  failure  to  previ- 
ous neglect,  the  exceeding  closeness  of  the  room,  or  the 
despair  which  seizes  on  a  family  thus  prostrated,  were 
equally  balanced  in  my  mind.  The  nurse,  who  had  ob- 
tained from  them  a  recital  of  their  condition,  their  suf- 
ferings and  privations  to  reach  New  Orleans,  and  the 
hopeful  anticipations  held  out  to  them  on  arriving  at  St. 
Louis  among  their  relatives,  wept  as  she  repeated  it  to 
me.  That  night  I  spent  several  hours  with  them.  Noth- 
ing we  said  could  comfort  them.  The  husband  and  wife 
frequently  exchanged  desponding  glances  after  sorrow- 
fully regarding  their  child,  affectionatel}^  consoled  each 
other  as  either  would  express  pain,  and  thanked  God 
that  neither  would  survive  to  shed  tears  over  the  other. 
Natural  enough  was  it  that  such  a  family,  exulting  in 
health  and  hopes,  and  suddenly  finding  themselves  in 
the  grasp  of  death  and  in  a  strange  land — natural  enough 
was  it  that,  sharing  such  sudden  affliction  here,  they 
should  desire  to  be  inseparable  in  their  hereafter.  When 
I  returned  in  the  morning  they  were  all  in  the  last  stage, 
and  at  evening  were  removed  to  be  buried  together. 
Their  effects  of  any  value  were  put  back  in  their  trunks, 
and  shipped  to  St.  Louis  to  the  address  marked  thereon. 
In  four  or  five  day^  more  the  new  cases  increased  in 
this  locality,  and  occupied  my  sole  attention.  In  a  day 
more  I  was  called  to  a  case  in  the  square  below.  The 
patient  occujDied  one  of  about  twenty-four  rooms  in  a 
two-story  building,  which  surrounded  a  large  court.  The 
building  fronting  the  street  was  of  ancient  construction, 
roofed  with  tiles,  and  of  one  story  and  attic.  Every 
room  was  tenanted  by  four  or  five  persons.  From  day 
to  day  thereafter  the  majority  of  them  had  taken  the  fe- 
ver, converting  the  place  into  a  miniature  hospital. 
Three  nurses,  with  the  assistance  of  the  able  occupants, 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  131 

divided  their  time  among  the  sick.  The  fever  had  no 
sooner  completed  its  work  here  than  it  passed  from 
square  to  square  below,  gradually  diverging  from  this 
point  toward  Kampart  and  Esplanade  Streets.  It  was 
not  until  the  epidemic  had  exhausted  itself  in  the  upper 
and  lower  districts  that  it  showed  itself  in  the  rear  of 
the  city,  toward  the  swamp,  where  the  assistants  so  ably 
did  their  duty.  It  is  a  noted  fact  that,  while  in  other 
districts  the  disease  commenced  in  the  swamps  and 
gradually  approached  the  river,  when  it  had  worn  itself 
out  every  where  else,  it  finished  its  relentless  work  with 
greater  malignity  in  the  rear  of  the  first  district  than 
elsewhere.  After  our  infirmaries  were  closed,  patients 
claimed  our  attention  here  for  many  weeks. 

At  the  end  of  my  second  week  of  labor  I  had  sixty 
patients  on  my  list.  Besides  these  to  visit,  I  had  to  look 
into  the  condition  of  those  sent  by  me  to  the  hospitals 
and  infirmary.  I  was  not  sent  for  by  many  until  the 
disease  had  had  too  long  a  hold  to  be  manageable. 
These  could  not  be  removed,  and  were  treated  as  well 
as  circumstances  would  permit  in  their  unhealthy  local- 
ities. I  had  merely  to  follow  closely  the  prescriptions 
of  the  physician,  to  strip  death  of  its  precursory  agonies, 
and  to  hand  in,  a  few  hours  after,  the  name  of  the  de- 
ceased to  the  commissary  for  interment.  Every  day  I 
found  memoranda  on  the  slate  at  my  house:  "A  man 

dead  at  ISTo. Street ;  please  bury  him."     In 

many  instances  a  corpse  was  deserted  for  more  than  a 
day,  from  the  ignorance  of  the  neighbors  where  to  ap- 
ply for  aid,  or  their  want  of  means  to  remove  it.  The 
suffocating  stench  in  the  neighborhood  drew  distant  res- 
idents to  the  spot,  who  finally  brought  our  attention  to 
the  cause. 

Although  almost  every  physician  volunteered  to  at- 
tend the  poor  gratis,  it  was  expecting  too  much  to  re- 
quire constant  attendance,  to  the  exclusion  of  their  pay- 


132  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

patients,  without  some  compensation.  The  largest  prac- 
titioners were  relieved  from  this  sacrifice  of  their  time 
as  soon  as  we  found  ourselves  able  to  pay  for  the  serv- 
ices of  others.  In  each  district  we  engaged  such  physi- 
cians as  had  not  much  practice,  and  who  we  knew  were 
educated  to  their  profession.  These  were  generally 
young  men,  who  took  our  allowance  of  $100  to  $300  per 
month,  with  the  use  of  a  cab,  more  for  the  prospective 
advantages,  and  for  familiarizing  themselves  with  the 
disease,  than  for  its  compensatory  return.  Indeed,  many 
thus  employed  laid  the  foundation  of  a  practice  among 
the  thrifty  and  industrious  population  which  has  proved 
a  fortune  to  them.  We  adhered  as  close  as  possible  to 
the  calling  in  to  the  sick  a  physician  of  their  respective 
nationalities.  It  would  be  invidious  to  particularize  the 
value  of  their  services.  Their  modes  of  treatment  differ- 
ed widely,  but,  as  the  patient  had  faith,  we  did  not  de- 
mur. We  witnessed,  equally  without  comment,  the 
Spanish  physician,  who  gave  to  his  patients,  on  the  first 
day  of  convalescence,  the  juice  of  fresh  oysters;  the 
German,  who,  after  the  first  course  of  medicine,  when 
the  patient  desired  food,  gave  him  successfully  strong 
fluid  nourishment ;  another,  who  prescribed  hard-boiled 
eggs  as  the  most  nutritious  and  digestible  in  a  more  ad- 
vanced stage  of  convalescence ;  the  French  phj^sicians, 
of  equal  success,  with  hot  drinks  and  cold  drinks,  close 
covering  or  no  covering  at  all  on  the  patient ;  him  who 
administered  strychnine  with  reported  success,  etc.,  etc. 
We  took  no  hberties  with  their  patients  and  prescrip- 
tions, but  were  always  as  happy  as  surprised  at  the  re- 
sults when  they  proved  favorable. 

I  remember  leaving  an  order  for  one  of  our  physicians 
to  visit  two  German  women  lying  in  the  same  bed  with 
fever.  They  had  both  wisely  taken  a  dose  of  oil  and  a 
foot-bath,  and  when  I  entered  they  were  beautifully-de- 
veloped cases.     The  physician  called  shortlj^  aft€r,  and 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  133 

left  them  a  prescription,  to  be  sent  for  and  "taken  im- 
mediatelj."  WJien  1  called  at  noon  I  questioned  tliem 
with  regard  to  their  medicine.  They  informed  me  that 
another  physician — one  of  ours,  too,  who  had  been  at- 
tending in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  and  who  thought 
the  visit  of  the  other  an  impertinent  intrusion — ^had  just 
left,  after  throwing  the  mixtures  of  the  other  in  the 
street,  saying  that  he  would  send  them  the  medicine 
they  were  to  take.  I  read  his  prescription  and  obtained 
the  medicines,  directing  them  how  they  were  to  be 
taken,  and  retired.  They,  having  more  confidence  in 
the  first  than  the  last  physician,  concluded  to  wait  until 
the  former  returned,  which  he  did  that  night,  and,  upon 
being  informed  of  the  cavalier  manner  in  which  his  po- 
tions had  been  treated,  sent  those  of  the  latter  in  the 
same  direction,  leaving  again  his  former  prescription. 
The  patients  now  waited  my  return  to  obtain  the  order 
for  the  purchase  of  the  medicines.  I  did  not  go  there 
until  midnight.  I  found  the  patients  in  a  profuse  per- 
spiration, with  a  healthy  pulse.  Nature  had  been  assist- 
ed in  this  change  by  frequent  drinks  of  iced  water.  As 
I  deemed  it  imprudent  to  decide  between  the  prescrijD- 
tions  of  the  two  physicians,  and  thought  a  continuance 
of  the  simple  treatment  as  safe  as  any,  I  concluded  to  let 
well  enough  alone,  at  least  until  the  next  morning.  I 
left  word  that  if  either  physician  called  he  should  be  re- 
quested to  meet  me  at  9  o'clock.  When  I  returned  I 
found  the  favorite  one  in  conversation  with  the  sick, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  afterward  the  other  one  entered. 
They  had  not  been  personally  acquainted.  My  introduc- 
tion of  the  one  to  the  other  was  accompanied  by  a  stud- 
ied consequential  bow  from  both.  I  opened  with  the 
complaint  against  the  latter  that,  as  the  patients  were  un- 
der charge  of  the  association,  I  had  a  right  to  call  in  the 
services  of  any  physician,  and  that  in  doing  so  I  meant 
no  reflection  upon  the  reputation  of  the  other.     The  in- 


134  DIARY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

trusive  one,  not  satisfied  witli  being  thus  discomfited, 
commenced  a  thundering  ratthng  of  words — all  Dutch 
to  me — which  was  responded  to  as  volubly,  until  I 
thought  my  interference  became  necessary  to  prevent 
injury  to  the  patients,  telling  them,  at  the  same  time, 
that  the  latter  did  not  require  the  attention  of  either  in 
their  present  excited  state.  At  noon,  until  night,  and 
thereafter,  the  patients  continued  to  do  better.  They 
were  provided  with  hght  sustenance  on  the  fourth  day, 
after  which  they  rapidly  convalesced.  The  above  is,  in 
one  sense,  illustrative  of  the  Spanish  proverb,  "That  one 
physician  will  cure  of  the  colic,  while  two  will  cure  of 
physic." 

The  number  of  patients  increasing  upon  our  hands, 
and  their  distance  apart,  required  greater  facility  in  our 
calling  upon  them.  Accordingly,  most  of  us  used  cabs 
for  both  day  and  night  visits ;  indeed,  they  were  indis- 
pensable, as  miles  had  to  be  gone  over  every  hour  in  look- 
ing up  physicians,  nurses,  etc.  Every  morning  I  made 
up  the  list  of  patients  on  hand,  with  those  whom  I  had 
to  visit  for  relief  j)urposes.  The  latter  were  increasing 
upon  us  in  a  greater  ratio.  Not  only  were  the  families 
of  the  convalescents  to  be  taken  care  of,  but  we  had  de- 
mands upon  us  from  the  indigent  class  of  the  resident 
population.  As  our  hours  were  fixed  to  be  at  our  resi- 
dences for  the  applicants  for  relief,  it  was  no  unusual 
sight  to  find  as  many  as  one  hundred  persons  for  suc- 
cessive mornings  at  those  hours.  It  was  our  duty,  be- 
fore afibrding  any  relief  in  money  or  groceries,  to  visit 
the  residence  of  the  applicant,  and  judge  for  ourselves 
his  worth  and  sincerity.  Many  who  attempted  impo- 
sition annoyed  us  much  by  most  distressing  representa- 
tions, and  sending  for  us,  to  the  exclusion  of  previous 
engagements,  to  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  to  look  in  vain 
for  their  designated  places  of  residence.  The  scene  at 
our  house  or  office  on  the  occasions  of  such  application 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  18e5 

was  beyond  description.  There  was  tlie  importunate 
beggar  of  all  degrees,  sexes,  and  ages ;  the  worthy  appli- 
cant, with  his  or  her  whispered  plaint  of  distress;  the 
kind  neighbor,  who  asked  our  attention  to  some  sick  or 
needy ;  the  nurse,  to  be  paid  or  desiring  employment — 
cum  multis  cdiis — all  of  whom  were  either  dismissed  with 
their  wants  met,  or  promised  an  immediate  and  satisfac- 
tory visit.  These  gatherings  took  place  at  my  house  an 
hour  before  breakfast  and  before  dinner,  and  for  two 
months  I  was  occupied,  to  the  interference  with  my 
meals,  in  writing  orders  on  the  treasurer,  giving  bons  to 
the  grocery,  approving  bills,  etc.  The  only  time  prop- 
erly my  own  was  after  dinner,  wlien  an  liour's  repose 
compensated  me  for  the  absence  of  it  the  previous  night. 
Having  to  hold  colloquy  with  people  of  all  nations,  and 
imperfectly  acquainted  with  two  languages  besides  my 
own,  I  found  little  difficulty  in  understanding  any  ex- 
cept the  German ;  for  this  language  I  invariably  found 
an  interpreter  among  some  of  the  applicants. 

My  first  occupation,  after  taking  a  cab,  was  to  leave 
the  names  and  residences  of  the  new  cases  with  the  phy- 
sicians ;  after  this,  to  visit  the  old  patients ;  then  to  no- 
tice the  condition  of  those  wko  ^had  obtained  or  asked 
relief,  and,  before  returning  home,  to  visit  the  new  cases, 
procure  their  medicines,  engage  nurses,  etc.,  etc.  After 
the  third  day  of  convalescence  I  left  the  patient  with, 
the  nurse,  who  continued  two  or  three  days.  Such  cases 
were  marked  as  discharged,  and  thus  reported  on  our 
weekly  returns  to  the  association. 

The  night,  which,  was  the  most  fatal  to  the  sick,  was 
the  most  agreeable  and  less  enervating  to  us.  For  many 
nights  successively  we  did  not  sleep.  Even  were  we  so 
disposed,  calls  upon  us  would  have  prevented  it.  I  say 
so  disposed,  because  there  was  not  one  of  us  who  was 
not  so  mucli  enlisted  in  many  cases  that  he  knew  his  in- 
dulgence in  repose  would  be  fatal  by  the  neglect  of  them. 


186  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Several  members  have  told  me  that,  with  physical  pros- 
tration calling  imperatively  for  rest,  they  have  frequent- 
ly retired  to  bed,  but  found  that  their  minds  -hovered 
around  their  particular  sick,  chiding  them  for  desertion. 
Unable  to  sleep,  they  hurried  out  to  visit  their  patients 
until  dayhght. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Eunaway  restored. 

Upon  returning  home  late  one  evening,  I  read  on  the 

slate,  '''■Mary ,  No.  —  Dauphin  Street.     Please  call  im- 

raediaielyr  The  proximity  to  my  residence,  as  well  as 
the  sex  of  the  applicant,  induced  me  to  give  this  the 
preference  of  a  first  call.  Upon  discovering  the  house 
by  the  number  given,  I  was  not  a  little  surprised  on 
finding  myself  accosted  by  several  young  females  who 
were  standing  at  the  door,  and  who  welcomed  me  as  if 
I  were  an  old  acquaintance.  The  matron  of  the  estab- 
lishment next  approached  me,  followed  by  the  remain- 
der of  her  household.  She  was  a  large,  portly  woman, 
of  well-formed  features,  but  with  a  leaden  expression  of 
the  eye  which  chilled  familiarity.  Her  ''I  am  glad  to 
see  you"  was  delivered  in  the  same  tone  as  she  would 
reply  to  a  dun  to  ''call  to-morrow." 

"You  have  some  one  sick  with  you?"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  there  is  one  of  the  girls  who  has 
taken  sick,  and  nothing  would  satisfy  her  but  to  send 
for  you.  I  believe  her  nurse  put  the  notion  into  her 
head.  She  wants  for  nothing,  as  I  can  take  care  of  my 
own  sick ;  but  she  has  seen  you  visiting  next  door,  and 
fancies  you  can  do  something  for  her.  Let  me  show 
you  to  her  room." 

At  the  doorway  of  the  room  I  was  met  by  the  nurse. 


DiAEY  OF  A  samarita:n-.  187 

wlio  liacl  been  frequently  in  our  employ.  I  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  tlie  matron  and  all  tlie  girls,  seven  or  eight  in 
number. 

''Mary,"  said  tlie  matron,  "here  is  Mr. ." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  sir ;  I  did  not  ex- 
pect it;"  at  the  same  time  holding  out  her  hand  to  me, 
and  requesting  all  others  |)resent  to  retire  for  a  few  min- 
utes. To  examine  into  the  condition  of  my  patient  the 
better,  I  brought  the  candle  beside  the  bed.  Her  face 
was  partially  enveloped  in  the  sheet,  and  her  head  sunk 
deep  in  a  feather  pillow.  As  I  took  hold  of  her  wrist, 
she  begged  me  to  tell  her  the  truth  of  her  situation,  for, 
she  said,  "  I  am  not  prepared  to  die,  and  least  of  all 
here."  This  was  her  fifth  day.  Physician  and  nurse 
had  successfully  done  their  office,  and,  to  all  appear- 
ances, the  symptoms  were  favorable.  On  my  assuring 
her  to  that  effect,  she  raised  her  head,  and  leaning  it 
upon  her  hand,  ejaculated,  "Thank  God!  thank  God!" 
with  great  emphasis,  "I  did  not  send  for  you,"  she 
continued,  "because  I  have  no  faith  in  my  physician; 
but  I  wished  to  be  assured,  from  another  than  him,  that  I 
should  recover.  I  am  tormented  by  day  and  night  with 
thoughts  and  dreams  that  make  me  despise  myself  heart- 
ily, and  I  should  die  of  despair  did  I  not  believe  that  I 
may  yet  live  to  repent  and  reform." 

I  reassured  her  of  her  favorable  symptoms,  and  re- 
quired of  her  to  dwell  only  on  the  certainty  of  that  fu- 
ture of  reform  and  usefulness  she  hoped  for.  I  was 
about  leaving  her  with  her  nurse,  who  had  just  entered, 
when  she  asked  me,  imploringly,  to  call  in  on  the  mor- 
row, as  she  had  something  to  say  which  she  felt  she  had 
not  strength  then  to  communicate. 

When  I  entered  her  room  the  next  morning  she  was 
awake,  but  did  not  notice  my  presence  until  I  addressed 
her.  It  seemed  I  had  driven  away  a  pleasing  reverie, 
for  her  recognition  was  followed  by  a  formally-express- 


138  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ed  ''  You  are  here?"  To  my  different  inqniries,  slie  re- 
plied and  remarked  as  follows :  that  she  had  slept  for 
a  few  hours  after  I  left;  but  since,  until  daylight,  her 
wandering  thoughts  had  raised  visions  of  gloomy  char- 
acter ;  that  she  felt  now  that  she  was  not  so  well  as  yes- 
terday, and  piteously  besought  me  to  do  my  utmost  to 
save  her. 

"But  you  are  doing  well,  Mary,"  I  observed. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  sir !  I  feel  I  am  not.  I  dread  that  I  am 
not."  On  saying  this,  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
arm,  and  sobbed  loudly. 

"  Mary !"  said  I,  in  as  angry  a  tone  as  I  could  coun- 
terfeit, "I  came  here  to  relieve  your  suffering,  and  to 
cheer  you  under  your  affliction.  If  you  continue  to  ag- 
gravate 3^our  sickness  by  these  demonstrations,  and  in 
my  presence  too,  the  object  will  be  better  gained  by  my 
absence.  You  can  not  know  upon  what  little  your  life 
dejDends.  If  you  continue  to  despond  thus,  even  though 
you  were  much  better,  you  wiU  die.  You  are  now  safe 
— I  say,  safe,  wanting  only  obedience  to  all  that  is  re- 
quired of  you.  For  you,  a  girl  of  sense,  to  anticipate 
your  fate  by  harboring  a  suspicion  of  the  worst,  is  un- 
accountable weakness.  Cheer  up !  Had  you  the  strength 
to  stand  up  and  look  at  yourself  in  the  glass,  you  would 
wonder,  as  I  do,  that  you  are  taken  to  be  ill.  Let  me 
see  you  smile,  nay,  laugh,  if  it  is  not  too  great  an  effort." 

The  nurse  handed  me  a  potion  for  her.  As  I  placed 
it  to  her  lips,  she  made  a  sour  grimace ;  then,  with  the 
remark,  "Am  I  not  brave?"  swallowed  the  whole  of  it. 
"Now,"  said  she,  "I  feel  another  person.  Celeste,  tell 
Emily  I  want  to  see  her."  In  a  few  minutes  the  latter 
entered.  "  Give  me  your  hand,  Emily,"  she  said.  "  For- 
give me  for  what  I  said  to  you  yesterday.  I  know  I 
hurt  your  feelings.  Am  I  forgiven?"  "Certainly," 
was  the  reply  from  a  young  girl  of  melancholy  sweet- 
ness of  countenance,  who  appeared  touched  by  the  ex- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  139 

planation,  or  tlie  cause  of  it.  They  excTaanged  a  few 
words,  and  I  was  left  alone  with  Mary  and  the  nurse. 

Before  leaving  the  room  the  shutters  had  been  open- 
ed for  some  purpose,  which  gave  me  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  particularly  the  features  of  my  patient.  Her  face 
was  oval,  her  eyes  blue,  and  fringed  by  their  almond- 
shaped  line  of  lashes,  a  nose  retroussee,  her  mouth  large 
and  well  defined,  and  a  chin  wherein  was  seated  a  dim- 
ple that  alone  would  beautify  the  entire  expression  of 
worse  features.  Her  auburn  hair  yet  retained  the  braids, 
though  ruf&ed,  which  it  had  when  she  was  taken  sick. 
I  judged  her  to  be  about  twenty  years  of  age.  Yet 
how  difficult  is  it  to  estimate  by  years  a  life  which  is 
crowded  with  events  such  as  hers  had  recently  expe- 
rienced. 

When  I  returned  in  the  evening  her  symptoms  were 
not  so  favorable.  The  physician  had  ordered  her  to  be 
kept  free  from  intrusion.  It  appears  that  she  dreaded  to 
be  left  alone,  and,  as  soon  as  I  was  gone,  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  other  girls  of  the  house.  This  could  not 
be  prevented  by  the  nurse.  I  called  the  matron  to  me, 
and  told  her  that,  when  I  was  called  in  to  the  sick,  I 
made  it  a  point  to  be  second  to  the  physician ;  that,  from 
disobedience  to  his  orders,  in  crowding  the  sick-room  and 
talking  to  the  patient,  they  were  killing  her.  "She  is 
convalescent,"  I  continued.  "All  she  now  requires  is 
repose  and  quiet.  These  she  must  have,  if  I  have  to  put 
a  guard  at  the  door,  or  I  do  not  return."  Complete 
compliance  was  expressed  to  my  wishes. 

"Except  Emily,"  said  Mary.  "She  will  not  talk  to 
me,  and  I  have  much  comfort  in  her  compan}^." 

To  this  I  consented.  With  worse  promise  for  her- 
self, and  with  increased  sympathy  of  her  companions 
and  attendants,  her  hope  of  recovery  was  yet  stronger 
than  it  had  been.  With  a  "  good-night,"  and  advice  to 
coax  herself  into  sleep,  for  the  prospect  of  repaying  me 


140  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

for  my  visits  by  seeing  her  improvement  on  the  morrow, 
I  left. 

On  the  morning  following,  at  10  o'clock,  I  again  call- 
ed. She  had  slept  at  intervals  during  the  night,  and 
was  then  in  a  slumber.  In  the  evening,  when  I  again 
called,  to  my  horror  and  dismay  I  perceived  her  with 
her  head  over  the  side  of  the  bed,  supj)orted  by  Celeste, 
in  vain  attempts  to  continue  a  retching  which  had  been 
effective  an  hour  before.  The  nurse  had  not,  in  the 
mean  time,  been  able  to  prevail  upon  her  to  allow  a  sina- 
pism to  be  reajDplied  to  the  sensitive  skin  of  her  abdo- 
men. Having  ordered  it  to  be  done  as  soon  as  I  saw 
the  state  she  was  in,  she  made  no  objection.  After  her 
temples  had  been  bathed,  and  the  feeling  of  exhaustion 
had  partially  subsided,  she  noticed  me  drawing  the  at- 
tention of  Celeste  to  a  dark-colored  fluid  which  she  had 
thrown  up  on  the  linen ;  by  candle-light  it  was  scarcely 
discernible  from  black  vomit.  Catching  at  my  suspi- 
cions, she  searched  my  countenance  for  farther  confirma- 
tion. As  I  was  lajdng  down  the  soiled  linen,  she  seized 
it  in  her  left  hand,  and,  pointing  to  it  with  her  other, 
gave  out  an  hysteric  laugh,  followed  by  tears  and  sobs. 

"  Then  it  is  all  over,"  she  said.  "  My  dream  of  life — 
is  finished.     Just,  too — when  every  thing  of  the  future 

was  so  promising — so  good.    Oh,  Mr. ,  do  you  know 

— that  last  night — I  dreamed  of  home?  Father  and 
brother  were  there"  (here  she  sobbed  so  distressingly  as 
to  smother  articulation).  "  Oh !  it  was  a  sweet  meeting. 
Before  I  awoke  this  morning  I  was  so  happy.  I  tried 
to  sleep  again  to  continue  the  dream ;  but — now — it  is 
all  over ;  I  must  die — and  here !" 

"  No,  no,  Mary,"  I  replied,  "  not  so  quick.  You  have 
nothing  to  fear.  You  have  not  had  the  black  vomit. 
On  the  contrary,  your  pulse — feel  it  yourself — is  healthy ; 
your  skin  moist,  and  every  indication  of  convalescence. 
Your  late  exertions  were  entirely  owing  to  the  excessive 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  141 

quantity  of  water  you  drank,  from  wliicli  you  must  re- 
strain yourself  hereafter ;  and  the  color  of  the  vomit  is 
that  of  the  medicine  you  have  taken." 

"  Then  I  may  hope,  and  will  get  well?" 

I  bowed  afiirmatively.  The  nurse  again  passed  a  cloth, 
saturated  in  Cologne,  over  her  face  and  neck,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  luxurious  sleep  of  the  convalescent  stole 
over  her. 

To  reassure  myself  of  her  condition,  I  remained  for  a 
half  hour  to  see  the  physician,  engaged,  in  the  mean 
time,  in  looking  at  the  books  and  ornaments  of  the  room. 

It  is  no  small  tribute  to  virtue  that  the  greatest  devo- 
tees to  passion  and  debauchery  desire  to  conceal  from 
themselves  and  others  every  thing  hkely  to  make  them 
dwell  upon  their  particular  failing.  As  much  as  a  drunk- 
ard revels  in  intoxication,  or  a  file  perdue  in  sensuality, 
they  look  with  abomination  upon  any  representation  of 
their  sin  in  print.  When  they  are  whirled  in  a  pool  of 
sensuality,  reason  becomes  distracted ;  when  lulled  by 
reaction,  the  intervals  are  a  dreamy  indifference  to  ev- 
ery thing,  until  the  appetite  for  indulgence  again  over- 
takes them.  They  would  not  be  forced  to  think  at  all, 
much  less  of  their  own  degradation.  Before  now  the 
reader  is  aware  that  I  have  introduced  him  under  the 
shed  where  contamination  breeds  foulness,  and  where 
the  world  has  placed  strong  bars  of  resistance  to  its 
charity.  Even  here,  though,  a  lesson  of  purity  may  be 
learned  in  the  chasteness  of  taste  characterized  in  the 
ornaments  and  pictures  of  a  room ;  and  even  here,  too, 
may  be  seen  the  well-thumbed  Book,  resorted  to  from 
early  association,  or  when  desperate  thoughts  prevail, 
which,  in  more  virtuous  ranks,  clasped  in  rich  binding, 
is  made  merely  ornamental  to  its  owner's  professions. 

Our  association  is  not  frequently  called  in  by  this 
class  of  females.  They  prefer  each  other's  attendance  in 
sickness  to  the  silent  rebuke  of  a  pitying  Pharisee.    I 


142  DIARY  OF   A  SAMAKITAX. 

should  not  provoke  the  blusli  of  any  one  in  drawing  his 
symjDathy  to  this  instance  but  for  the  good  the  sequel 
develojDS. 

The  physician  came  in  and  pronounced  Mary  entirely 
out  of  danger.  He  gave  her  permission  to  sit  up  in  bed 
the  following  day,  and  left  orders  for  her  future  nour- 
ishment, saying  he  would  not  again  call  u.ntil  sent  for. 
This  last  remark  had  a  telling  effect.  Mary's  eyes  beam- 
ed with  hope  and  joy.  I  was  taking  my  leave,  when 
she  called  me  back,  and  requested  that  I  would  call  the 
next  morning  to  listen  to  a  recital  that  would  be  as 
strange  to  me  as  important  to  her  that  I  should  know 
it.     I  made  the  appointment. 

Being  detained  by  more  pressing  engagements,  I  de- 
ferred my  visit  until  after  noon,  when,  in  passing  home, 
a  note  was  handed  to  me,  with  her  name,  and  a  "call 
immediately."  I  encountered  Celeste  in  the  corridor, 
who  told  me  that  she  had  been  restless  all  night ;  want- 
ed to  walk  the  room ;  called  for  pen,  ink,  and  paper  to 
write  a  letter;  and  threatened,  if  force  was  used  to  keep 
her  in  bed,  that  she  would  seek  an  opportunity  to  jump 
into  the  yard  from  the  window.  I  asked  what  occa- 
sioned this  alarm.  Celeste  surmised  that  Mary  had  fears 
that  she  would  be  forced  to  remain  in  the  house,  when 
she  had  expressed  herself  determined  to  leave  as  soon 
as  she  got  well. 

As  I  entered  the  room  I  was  surprised  at  seeing  Mary 
sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  her  legs  hanging  down, 
partly  uncovered.  I  charged  her  more  with  indecency 
than  imprudence ;  told  her  that  I  had  done  for  her  to 
the  extent  of  my  services,  and  that  it  gTieved  me,  where 
there  was  so  much  promise,  to  see  so  early  a  departure 
from  it.  She  threw  herself  in  the  bed,  with  her  hands 
clasped  together  under  the  back  of  her  head,  while  her 
arms  protruded  beyond  and  half  concealed  her  face. 
She  remained  for  a  while  silent ;  at  lenoth  she  looked 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  143 

Celeste  and  I  alternately  in  the  face,  to  awaken  in  us 
some  new  development.  Seeing  we  said  nothing,  she 
exclaimed, 

"Mr. ,  you  have  seen  me  through  the  fever,  but 

when  I  had  it  I  did  not  foresee  the  dangers  that  waited 
on  recovery.  What  shall  I  do  ?  O  God !  why  did  I 
not  die?" 

I  asked  what  new  phantom  troubled  her. 

"  It  is  in  remaining  here — ^here,  where  I  scorn  myself, 
and  from  whence  I  have  not  the  means  to  leave  without 
submitting  to  a  degradation  that  I  loathe  more  now  than 
ever.  Though,  if  it  is  inevitable,  it  will  not  be  long, 
and  maybe  my  God  will  forgive  me." 

"Explain  yourself,  but  without  excitement  to  your- 
self" 

She  began:  "I  believe  I  am  well,  or  out  of  danger. 
Now  I  seek  a  friend,  such  as  I  never  knew  the  value  of 
until  now ;  but  you  have  done  so  much,  and  I  have  so 
little  in  only  a  grateful  heart,  that  I  dare  not  ask  you  to 
continue  your  kind  acts." 

I  replied  that  she  was  precisely  in  that  situation  of 
dependency  that  made  our  acts  the  more  pleasing  to 
ourselves. 

"Then  hear  me  through;  I  will  tell  you  all.  My 
father  lives  at .  He  sent  me  to  a  neigboring  con- 
vent, where  I  was  educated,  and  remained  until  I  was 
18  years  of  age.  He  is  a  wealthy  farmer,  and  my 
brother,  older  than  I  am,  is  associated  with  him.  My 
mother  died  before  I  knew  that  I  had  lost  one.  On  my 
return  home  I  found  my  brother  engaged  to  be  married 
to  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  farmer. 
It  was  settled  upon  by  both  families  that  I  was  to  marry 
her  brother,  whether  I  would  or  not.  I  had  before 
formed  an  attachment,  which  was  warmly  reciprocated, 
for  a  young  man  who  was  a  clerk  in  a  neighboring 
town.     Without  any  dislike  to  my  intended,  I  nursed 


144  DIARY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

an  affection  for  the  other  in  a  spirit  of  obstinacy  and 
wounded  jDride  in  having  dictation  in  matters  of  affec- 
tion. My  father  noticed  the  coolness  with  which  I  re- 
ceived my  intended,  and  threatened  me  with  exclusion 
from  the  world  until  I  was  of  lawful  age  unless  I  com- 
plied with  his  commands.  Apprehensive  of  such  an 
event,  I  listened  to  the  proposition  of  my  lover  to  elope. 
With  the  money  he  had  saved  we  left  home  five  weeks 
ago,  and  took  passage  in  a  steam-boat  for  New  Orleans, 
determining  to  be  married  as  soon  as  we  landed  here. 
Not  being  acquainted  with  your  laws,  we  were  much 
surprised  that  we  could  not  fulfill  our  intentions ;  know- 
ing no  one  to  vouch  for  us,  we  could  not  obtain  a  license. 
To  each  other,  our  pledge  was  as  strong  and  binding, 
and  as  sacred  as  parson  or  priest  could  make  it :  we 

were  man  and  wife.    Well,  we  put  up  at  the Hotel. 

After  being  there  a  week,  Charles  found  his  scanty  fund 
much  diminished,  and,  with  the  hopelessness  of  obtain- 
ing a  situation,  certain  misery  ahead.  Another  week  of 
board  would  exhaust  our  resources,  and  we  had  not 
enough  to  return  to  our  home.  The  yellow  fever,  which 
then  was  prevailing  to  a  great  extent,  raised  crazy  fears 
in  both  of  us ;  night  or  day  there  was  no  consolation 
for  the  horrible  situation  in  which  we  found  ourselves. 
One  night  we  were  in  agony  from  being  kept  awake  by 
the  moans  of  a  dying  man  in  a  room  not  far  from  ours. 
We  now  acknowledged  that  we  wandered  away  from 
home  like  two  foolish  and  guilty  things,  and  that  we 
were  justly  harvesting  the  fruits.  One  morning  Charles 
came  in  our  room  gloomy  and  dejected.  *  Mary,'  said 
he,  '  we  have  made  Judies  of  ourselves ;  let  us  retrace 
our  ste]DS.  It  is  folly  for  us  to  be  thinking  of  being  le- 
gally married  when  we  have  not  the  least  prospect  of 
support  before  us.  It  is  of  no  use  for  one  to  be  in  the 
other's  way.  You  are  better  off  than  I,  for  you  can  get 
employment  in  a  millinery :  but  I  can  get  no  employ- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  145 

ment,  and  must  work  my  passage  back.  At  any  rate,  I 
must  leave  you,  for  I  can  not  pay  this  week's  board.'  I 
can  not  conceive  what  passion  possessed  me  when  he 
finished.  I  was  so  startled  at  the  idea  of  his  deserting 
me  that  I  could  not  think  for  him,  or  for  the  causes  that 
drove  him  to  speak  as  he  did.  My  first  impulse  was  to 
spit  in  his  face,  but  I  only  looked  him  full  in  the  eye  as 
I  advanced  to  him  and  told  him  to  '  GrO !'  I  then  took  a 
chair  by  the  window,  thinking  desperate  things,  not 
noticing  Charles  as  he  left  with  a  bundle  of  his  clothes, 
taken  from  our  trunks.  The  dinner-hour  passed ;  I  was 
equally  indifferent  to  the  cravings  of  nature  as  to  the 
world ;  had  I  known  of  poison  I  would  have  taken  it. 
At  night  the  chambermaid  informed  me  that  my  apart- 
ment was  engaged  for  the  following  day.  Suspicions  of 
my  character,  if  not  of  my  ability  to  pay,  had  been 
aroused.  A  hint  was  given  me  to  leave.  I  replied,  like 
a  guilty  thing,  nothing,  still  indifferent  to  life.  I  wonder 
now  at  my  feelings  then.  I  could  not  excite  myself  at 
my  situation,  not  being  able  to  fully  realize  it.  Sudden- 
ly a  thought  struck  me.  '  To  the  river,'  I  said  aloud, 
and  hastily  throwing  on  my  bonnet  and  shawl,  I  descend- 
ed the  stairway.  Suddenly  the  hellish  thought  entered 
me,  '  If  I  am  lost,'  I  said,  '  I  will  be  still  worse ;  I  will 
go  with  the  current.'  It  was  after  nine  o'clock.  Well, 
sir,  I  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace  on  the  streets,  imagining 
that  I  should  find  Charles ;  not  that  I  wanted  to  see 
him,  but  to  have  an  object  for  my  walk.  I  stared  im- 
pudently into  the  faces  of  men,  who  took  me,  no  doubt, 
to  be  crazy,  in  my  fast  gait,  while  I  swung  in  my  hand 
a  kerchief  violently  by  my  side  in  walking.  When 
nearly  exhausted,  ready  for  poison  had  I  known  how  to 
purchase  it,  a  cabman  addressed  me,  and  asked  where  I 
wanted  to  go.  '  I  do  not  know,'  I  replied ;  '  any  where.' 
'  Jump  in,'  he  cried,  '  and  I  will  show  you  a  house.' 
Involuntarily  I  resigned  myself  to  his  assistance  in  put- 

G 


146  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

ting  me  in  tlie  cab.  It  rattled  away  for  some  squares, 
when  it  stopped  at  this  house.  After  a  short  consulta- 
tion between  the  cabman  and  the  proprietress,  I  was  in- 
vited to  descend  and  enter  the  house.  I  was  really  be- 
side myself;  I  mean,  thoughtless  of  the  danger  I  was 
running,  but  conscious  of  all  I  was  doing,  and  felt  as  if 
a  hand  was  pushing  me  from  behind.  My  sense  of  pro- 
priety was  dormant.  Without  a  blush,  as  if  it  were  the 
house  of  a  friend,  I  famiharly  entered  the  parlor.  You 
have  seen  the  parlors  ?  They  are  splendidly  furnished 
— much  beyond  the  extravagance  of  the  richest  where  I 
was  born.  The  proprietress,  as  she  is  called,  took  off  my 
bonnet,  and,  leading  me  through  the  rooms  to  a  back 
gallery  shaded  by  curtains,  asked  me  to  take  some  re- 
freshment, which  she  handed  from  a  cupboard.  Then 
she  showed  me  to  this  room,  desiring  me  to  give  no 
thought  of  the  morrow,  as  she  would  fix  terms  with  me 
which  would  be  satisfactory.  Strange  that  I,  brought 
up  in  the  strict  conduct  of  a  convent,  should  find  myself 
in  parley  with  an  enemy  that  I  had  been  most  educated 
to  shun.  I  believe  I  thought  I  was  in  a  dream ;  yet,  in 
my  destitution  and  despair,  what  hope  had  I  then  of 
bettering  myself?  I  was  not  in  the  vein  of  sleeping,  and, 
as  the  proprietress  saw  me  transfixed  in  thought,  she 
took  me  by  the  shoulder,  saying  she  would  let  me  see 
her  company  to  drive  away  any  unpleasant  thoughts  I 
had.  I  was  led  back  to  the  parlor.  Several  of  the  girls 
whom  you  have  seen  in  this  room  were  seated  there, 
talking  with  and  familiarly  sitting  beside  some  well- 
dressed  men.  When  I  entered  each  girl  closely  scruti- 
nized me ;  but  two  approached  me  as  I  took  a  seat,  and 
proffered  a  welcome.  One  was  Emily,  who  sat  beside 
me,  and  seemed  interested  in  me — as  she  told  me  after- 
ward, because  my  conduct  so  reminded  her  of  hers  on  a 
similar  first  step.  I  must  have  sat  an  hour.  As  I  show- 
ed a  diffidence  and  reluctance  in  moving  with  the  others 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  147 

about  the  room,  they  shunned  me.  They  were  not  en- 
couraged to  think  that  I  was  one  of  them,  or  perhaps 
they  were,  like  Emily,  too  painfully  reminded  of  their 
first  step  by  my  initiatory.  At  any  rate,  we  were  repuls- 
ive to  each  other.  Shortly  a  gentleman  of  pleasing  ex- 
terior approached  me,  and  complimented  me  on  my  ap- 
pearance and  looks,  at  the  same  time  placing  his  hand 
under  my  chin,  which  I  repulsed  without  a  word.  In- 
voluntarily tears  coiy^ed  my  cheek,  yet  I  was  not 
ashamed ;  they  were  more  from  a  feeling  of  destitution 
and  loneliness.  I  was  not  again  disturbed.  When  they 
all  left  the  room  I  was  shown  to  this  apartment.  A  few 
minutes  elapsed  when  the  proprietress  entered,  and  in 
rather  a  brusque  tone  said,  'Well,  my  little  miss,  you 
have  come  to  live  with  me,  and  I  hope  now  you  know 
where  you  are.  But  where  is  your  baggage  or  clothes  ?' 
I  informed  her  where  my  trunk  was,  and  that  not  hav- 
ing paid  my  board  was  the  reason  it  was  left.  I  went 
to  bed  without  saying  my  prayers ;  I  could  not  pray :  I 
thought  it  blasphemy.  I  thought  the  ear  of  my  God 
was  deaf  to  me.  I  locked  my  door,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  fatigue  and  excitement  I  had  encountered  in- 
duced a  sound  sleep.  In  the  morning,  on  awakening,  I 
was  informed  that  my  trunk  was  at  hand,  ready  to  be 
brought  in  my  room. 

''At  breakfast,  which  was  late,  all  the  establishment 
was  assembled.  The  girls  were  neatly  dressed  in  blouses, 
most  of  them  with  their  faces  powdered,  and  took  their 
seats  without  an  exchange  of  salutation.  There  was  no 
more  attention  to  me,  by  word  or  look,  that  I  noticed, 
than  if  I  had  been  longer  with  them.  Though  all  the 
furniture  of  the  house  is  so  elegant,  the  set-out  of  the  ta- 
ble was  meagre  and  slovenly,  but  not  dirty.  Broken 
cups  and  saucers,  and  dishes  set  without  any  regularity. 
Eggs,  which  were  in  a  large  bowl  of  hot  water,  and 
corn  buttered  cakes,  seemed  the  most  in  request.     Of 


148  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

these  and  some  figs  I  made  my  first  repast.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  loud  during  the  meal.  As  each  one  finish- 
ed, she  left  the  table  and  joined  a  companion  for  a  talk. 
How  imitative  of  my  convent  life  in  one  respect,  how 
widely  different  in  another !  I  thought  I  was  the  cause 
of  this  silence  at  meal,  being  a  stranger,  but  I  was  since 
informed  that  it  was  always  so.  A  perfect  indiffer- 
ence to  each  other  reigns  throughout.  As  they  change 
their  names  with  their  new  life,  they  desire  not  confi- 
dants to  remind  them  of  that  which  they  have  left.  I 
said  a  perfect  indifference  exists  toward  each  other;  I 
should  except — yes,  I  do  except — when  one  of  them  is 
sick ;  for  never  has  been  greater  silent  sympathy  for  any 
one  than  for  me  in  their  inquiries  of  the  nurse,  and  their 
desire  to  sit  by  my  bedside  for  hours  in  the  day,  musing 
in  their  own  thoughts,  anticipating  my  wishes,  but  giv- 
ing me  no  verbal  comfort,  except,  again,  Emily.  Well, 
I  worried  myself  all  day,  thinking  of  my  situation.  I 
could  not  reahze  the  reality.  I  was  blind  to  the  future, 
and  desperate  in  meeting  it.  At  noon  I  felt  wearied, 
and  lay  upon  my  bed  for  repose.  In  the  evening  I  was 
awoke  to  consciousness  by  the  violent  exertions  of  sev- 
eral to  put  me  in  a  hot  bath.  I  had  a  violent  fever,  with 
the  strongest  symptoms — cupping,  nursing,  and  medi- 
cines ;  your  visits,  and  you  know  the  rest." 

Exhausted  by  this  recital,  the  interest  of  which  enlist- 
ed my  feelings  to  the  exclusion  of  any  regard  for  the 
imprudence  of  the  indulgence,  she  rolled  on  her  side 
with  a  sigh ;  then  resumed  her  former  position,  gazing 
on  vacancy,  awaiting  a  reply  from  me  to  rouse  her  from 
the  reverie  that  she  was  in.  A  thousand  suggestions 
for  her  good  passed  one  by  one  before  me.  She  was 
not  entirely  lost,  and  here  was  a  signal  triumph  within 
my  reach.  I  felt  her  brow,  then  her  pulse.  There  was 
a  slight  agitation  to  the  latter,  but  a  healthy  glow  to  the 
former,  albeit  the  intense  thought  had  caused  the  per- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  149 

spiration  to  roll  in  torrents  on  lier  pillow.  The  poor 
girl  was  now  sensible  of  lier  situation,  and  looked  to  me, 
as  her  only  friend,  to  save  her  from  the  brink  of  destruc- 
tion. As  if  in  acknowledgment  of  the  greatest  boon  I 
could  ask,  I  told  her  that  I  was  grateful  to  this  opportu- 
nity to  meet  her  expectations  in  the  fullest  of  mortal 
ability,  so  far  as  supply  means  to  send  her  home,  and  to 
extricate  her  from  her  perilous  situation.  He  who  has 
created  the  poison  and  the  antidote  flashed  a  ray  of  hope 
through  the  heart  of  this  unhappy  one.  She  saw  she 
was  not  all  lost  to  virtue  from  an  indifference  to  vice. 
The  link  to  the  latter  was  broken ;  the  magnetic  power 
of  good  had  not  lost  its  binding  and  attractive  power. 

"  Mary,"  I  said,  "  you  will  be  well  enough  to  leave  to- 
morrow. I  will,  in  the  mean  time,  procure  you  a  room 
in  a  private  house,  where  you  will  remain  until  you  are 
well  enough  to  return  to  your  home." 

I  begged  her  to  be  composed,  and  to  place  full  reli- 
ance upon  what  I  promised.  I  told  her  that  the  recital 
of  her  past  sufferings  would  be  injurious  if  prolonged, 
and  that  I  would  postpone  what  more  she  had  to  say  un- 
til I  returned  the  next  day. 

On  the  evening  of  the  next  day  I  called  with  a  car- 
riage to  take  her  away.-  I  now  asked  the  proprietress, 
who  had  not  been  apprised  of  this  before,  for  her  bill  of 
her  board.  At  first  she  demurred;  then  supposing, 
from  a  remark  that  I  purposely  made,  that  she  would 
be  returned  in  a  few  days,  sullenly  acquiesced.  As  we 
passed  through  the  corridor  several  of  the  boarders  nod- 
ded a  good-by,  while  the  girl  called  Emily  came  toward 
Mary,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  whispered  some  words, 
the  tenor  of  which  can  be  imagined  from  perusal  of  the 
account  of  her  illness  in  the  latter  part  of  this  work. 
Four  days  after  her  release  Mary  was  placed  by  me  on 
a  steamer  destined  for  her  home.  Upon  acquainting  the 
captain  with  just  enough  of  her  history  to  awaken  com- 


150  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

passion  for  a  deserted  female,  witli  the  noble  charity  so 
often  tested  nnder  similar  circumstances,  and  character- 
istic of  the  commanders  of  our  Western  boats,  he  refund- 
ed her  the  passage-money.  As  I  bade  her  adieu,  I  told 
her  I  intended  one  day  to  recur  to  the  late  incidents  in 
her  life  as  a  romance  of  reality.  She  replied,  "  No  one 
would  beheve  it;  for  the  subject,  as  well  as  the  friend, 
never  did  nor  could  not  again  possibly  meet  under  like 
circumstances." 

Two  months  later  I  received  a  letter  from  her  informing 
me  of  her  reconciliation  to  her  parent ;  her  formal  mar- 
riage to  her  repentant  lover,  who  had  satisfactorily,  she 
said,  excused  his  desertion,  for,  on  the  night  he  left  her 
so  insanely,  he  had  taken  the  fever,  recovered,  and  in- 
quired every  where  in  vain  for  her;  and  concluding 
with  such  lively  expressions  of  gratitude  that,  had  I 
opened  the  vista  of  heaven  to  her  soul,  I  could  be  no  less 
in  her  opinion. 

Will  Mary think  this  recital  a  breach  of  confi- 
dence if  chance  throws  these  pages  in  the  way  of  her 
perusal  ?  Perhaps  they  will  stir  up  reverential  feehngs 
for  that  Providence  that  favored  an  humble  individual 
in  saving  one  soul  from  being  lost  to  itself  and  useful- 
ness, and  may  develop  a  corresponding  gratitude  in  di- 
recting her  to  seek  to  do  a  like  good  and  service  to  an- 
other as  despairing  as  she  was. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Conp  d'CEil  of  Distress.— Funerals.— Bmying  of  the  Dead.— Fright  at 
the  Grave-yard. — Frederika. — My  Neighbors. 

By  the  10th  of  August  the  mortality  had  reached  an 
appalling  height.  The  whole  city  was  a  hospital,  and 
every  well  man,  woman,  and  child  were  instrumental,  in 
one  way  or  other,  in  relieving  the  sick.     The  streets 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  151 

were  deserted  save  to  tlie  hasty  pedestrian  on  an  errand 
of  mercy.  The  rattling  of  an  omnibus  and  the  swing 
of  a  doctor's  gig,  as  either  rapidly  passed,  were  the  only 
disturbing  sounds.  The  vociferations  of  the  coalman, 
the  knife-grinder,  and  of  other  callings  that  enliven  the 
thoroughfares,  were  silenced  by  disease  or  fear.  The 
bar-rooms  and  club-houses  were  hurriedly  visited,  more 
for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  calamitous  news  than 
from  social  impulses.  As  the  announcement  of  the  death 
of  well-known  citizens  was  made  from  day  to  day,  a  pity- 
ing look  would  follow  him  who  had  just  left  our  com- 
pany as  likely  to  be  the  next  victim.  At  the  most  fre- 
quented places  a  daily  bulletin  from  the  Board  of  Health 
was  stuck  up,  announcing  the  number  of  interments  for 
the  day  previous,  and,  as  each  individual  walked  to  the 
spot  to  read  it,  the  effect  made  upon  him  could  be  seen 
in  the  blanched  cheek,  while  the  downcast  eye  and  ab- 
sence of  comment  as  he  walked  off  spoke  of  the  thrill 
of  horror  which  passed  through  him.  Such  was  Death's 
harvesting  that,  to  keep  pace  with  the  call  for  inter- 
ments, trenches  of  seven  feet  wide  and  one  hundred  long 
were  being  constantly  dug,  into  which  the  coffins  were 
closely  packed,  three  to  four  deep,  without  intermediate 
earth.  When  one  trench  had  received  its  complement, 
and  a  few  feet  of  earth  laid  over  all,  a  parallel  one  was 
made  in  close  proximity.  In  the  absence  of  labor  to  dig 
single  graves,  friends  supphed  themselves  with  spades 
for  that  purpose.  Late  in  the  night-hours  I  have  had 
occasion  to  be  present,  and  listened  to  the  appeals  of 
parents  and  others  to  assist  in  burying  their  dead,  which 
were  frequently  left  cofiined  in  the  bushes  until  morning. 
On  a  dark,  cloudy  night,  when  we  had  been  detained 
later  than  usual,  a  rush  of  many  people  was  made  to- 
ward where  I  was  engaged  with  their  flambeaus  in  hand. 
Upon  asking  the  cause  for  this  alarm,  I  found  them  so 
paralyzed  by  fear  that  for  some  minutes  they  could  not 


152  L>IAKY   OF   A   SAMARITAX. 

speak.  With  a  husli !  tliey  directed  us  to  moans  and 
groans  issuing,  as  it  were,  from  the  interior  of  the  earth. 
As  such  things  have  happened,  and  to  the  ocular  demon- 
stration of  many,  as  burials  alive,  our  conclusions  with 
regard  to  supernatural  causes  for  this  noise  became  more 
and  more  weakened.  In  a  body  we  sought  the  inclo- 
sure,  where  a  continuation  of  the  sounds  directed  us  to  a 
new-dug  gTave.  Our  flambeaus  exj)osed  a  man  lying  at 
the  bottom,  who,  in  his  intoxication,  accused  a  loving 
one  of  haling  thrown  him  there.  Our  closer  examina- 
tion satisfied  us  that  John  Barleycorn  was  the  delusive 
ignis  fatuus.  "We  learned  from  this  man  afterward  that 
he  was  the  only  one  of  six  in  his  jDarty  who  had  sur- 
vived the  labors  of  digging  graves,  and  that  he  attrib- 
uted his  escape  from  putrid  or  pernicious  fever  to  his 
constant  habit  of  going  to  sleep  drunk  and  in  the  open 
air,  while  his  companions,  who  were  comparatively  tem- 
perate, and  lodged  in  a  shanty  near  by.  all  sickened  and 

The  morning  train  of  funerals,  as  was  the  evening's, 
crowded  the  road  to  the  cemeteries.  It  was  an  unbroken 
line  of  carriages  and  omnibuses  for  two  miles  and  a  half. 
The  city  commissary's  wagon,  and  the  carts  of  the  dif- 
ferent hospitals,  with  their  loads  of  eight  or  ten  cof6.ns 
each,  fell  in  with  the  cortege  of  citizens.  Confusion  and 
delay  at  the  cemeteries  were  unavoidable.  The  sun's 
heat  and  putrid  exhalations  were  sickening  to  the  sense. 
All  manner  of  experiments  were  used  to  diminish  the 
aggravation  to  disease  of  the  latter.  Tar  was  set  on  fire 
around  and  in  the  cemeteries,  and  lime  profusely  thrown 
on  the  cracked  and  baked  earth  covering  the  coffins  ui 
the  trenches.  The  Board  of  Health,  in  an  unthoughtful 
moment,  adopted  a  suggestion  of  firing  cannon  through- 
out the  city  to  disturb  the  atmosphere.  This  was  not 
continued  beyond  the  first  day,  as  it  was  attended  with 
melancholy  results  upon  the  nervous  systems  of  the  sick 


DIARY  OF   A   SAMARITAN.  153 

and  convalescent.  Any  expedient  to  escape  a  worse 
pestilence  wonldThave  been  admitted.  The  miasma 
from  neglected  streets,  combined  with  continued  dim- 
inution of  the  vital  principle  in  the  atmosphere,  from 
even  a  short  exposure  to  putrefaction  before  burial  of 
1186  dead  the  first  week  of  August,  1526  the  second, 
1531  the  third,  and  1628  the  fourth,  may  well  excuse 
far-fetched  theories  of  disinfection.  The  gas-works  threw 
open  to  the  use  of  the  .citizens  their  stores  of  tar.  Be- 
sides those  quantities  used  in  the  yards  of  private  houses, 
drays  were  engaged  to  drop  a  half  barrel  of  tar  at  dis- 
tances of  150  feet  in  the  middle  of  Canal,  Eampart,  and 
Esplanade  Streets.  At.  sunset,  when  all  were  simulta- 
neously fired,  a  Pandemonium  glare  lighted  up  the  city. 
Not  a  breath  of  air  disturbed  the  dense  smoke,  which 
slowly  ascended  in  curling  columns  until  it  had  reached 
the  height  of  about  500  feet.  Here  it  seemed  equipoised, 
festooning  over  our  doomed  city  like  a  funeral  pall,  and 
there  remaining  until  the  shades  of  night  disputed  with 
it  the  reign  of  darkness.  These  experiments  did  not 
visibly  diminish  the  ravages  of  the  pestilence.  Happy 
the  theorists  who  could  silence  their  own  fears  by  the 
doctrine  that  filth  and  stench  do  not  propagate  disease, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  check  it. 

Adjoining  my  residence,  in  a  house  occupied  by  sev- 
eral tenants,  there  dwelt  a  German  family,  consisting  of 
grandmother,  her  married  daughter  and  son-in-law,  with 
their  four  children,  the  latter  from  three  to  ten  years 
old.  The  quiet  that  reigned  throughout  on  my  occa- 
sionally passing  gave  me  no  suspicions  of  any  thing  ma- 
lign going  on  within.  They  were  cleanly  and  indus- 
trious in  habit.  They  had  been  informed,  or  knew,  from 
the  daily  concourse  of  unfortunates  at  my  door  for  the 
aid  of  the  association,  that  their  claims  were  equally  pre- 
sentable, if  made.  The  oldest  child  had  been  a  daily 
playmate  of  my  children,  and  recommended  herself  to 

G2 


154  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAK. 

particular  notice  from  tlie  tastefulness  of  attire  and 
sweetness  of  disposition.  Slie  was  verj  observant  and 
communicative,  never,  thougli,  speaking  of  herself  or 
parents,  but  fond  in  the  evenings  of  making  playful  re- 
marks of  the  neighbors,  who  all  liked  her,  or  in  repeat- 
ing, for  the  amusement  of  the  children,  legends  and  oth- 
er tales  which  she  had  read  or  had  been  taught  by  her 
parents.  From  constant  visits,  she  was  allowed  the 
privileges  of  one  of  the  family.  Frederika  for  several 
days  had  discontinued  her  visits.  Upon  sending  to 
know  the  reason,  my  children  were  informed  that  she 
was  too  much  engaged  to  be  about.  This  drew  com- 
plainings from  them,  and  awakened  in  me  a  suspicion 
that  all  was  not  right  withm.  As  I  opened  the  gate,  I 
surprised  Frederika  busy  over  a  wash-tub,  where  she 
appeared  as  handy  as  one  of  twice  her  age.  Directly 
she  espied  me  she  appeared  confused,  and  beckoned  to 
her  grandfather,  who  was  sitting  on  the  steps  before  the 
house.  Seeing  he  arose  with  difl&culty,  I  approached 
him,  and  commenced  my  interrogatories,  but  found  I  had 
to  call  in  Frederika  as  interpreter.  I  asked,  first,  her 
reasons  for  discontinuing  her  visits.  Without  replying, 
she  laid  down  the  linen  in  her  hand,  and,  pointing  to  an 
open  doorway,  led  me  to  it,  saying,  with  tears  in  her 

eyes,  "  My  mother  is  sick.     You  see  now,  Mr. ,  that 

I  could  not  leave  here  to  see  little .     My  mother 

was  taken  sick  just  after  my  grandfather  got  well.  My 
father  is  now  asleep  from  fatigue  of  last  night's  sitting 
up,  and  I  must  do  all  these  things." 

"And  have  no  help?"  I  asked. 

She  smiled  at  me  when  I  asked  the  question,  as  if  she 
thought  I  was  ridiculing  her. 

"  Help  ?"  she  replied ;  "  what  to  do  ?  It  is  not  very 
much.  I  work  a  little,  wash  a  little,  and  get  the  medi- 
cines and  drinks  for  mother.     Dr. has  been  very 

kind,  and  sometimes  brings  things  himself     If  it  was 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  155 

not  for  Mm^  I  don't  know  wliat  we  should  have  done. 
He  would  do  more  for  ns  if  he  knew  father  had  pawned 
and  sold  so  many  things ;  and,  before  mother  gets  well, 
every  thing  else  will  be  gone,  and  I  don't  know  what 
we  shall  do." 

Her  little  heart  had  been  charging  itself  during  this 
recital.  Not  to  be  seen  in  utterance  of  her  grief,  she 
turned  from  me  to  the  ascending  steps,  and  at  the  turn- 
ing dropped  on  them,  giving  full  vent  to  her  feelings. 
After  seeing  enough  to  know  what  was  to  be  done  im- 
mediately, I  hurried  out,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned 
with  a  nurse  who  spoke  their  language.  I  checked  a 
harsh  reproach  I  had  threatened  them  with  for  not  ap- 
plying to  me  under  their  necessities,  and  now,  through 
Frederika,  had  arranged  for  their  future  comfort. 

"  I  told  my  father,"  she  said,  "  how  good  you  were  to 
the  poor  people.  Eicher  than  we  are  are  some,  I  know, 
who  call  upon  you ;  but  he  would  not  let  me  ask  you 
for  any  thing,  because  your  family  were  already  so  kind 
to  me." 

In  my  presence  I  told  her  to  say  to  them  that  I  was 
merely  doing  a  duty  imposed  upon  me ;  that  it  was  not 
my  own  money  that  I  gave ;  that  it  was  intended  for 
them,  and  they  should  not  deprive  me  of  the  pleasure 
of  bestowing  it.  Upon  my  taking  leave  the  old  man 
grasped  my  hand,  and  with  his  eyes  to  heaven  whisper- 
ed his  heartfelt  gratitude  to  his  Maker  for  the  timely 
succor.  That  day  my  children  assisted  in  obtaining 
them  comforts,  making  such  duty  an  excuse  for  seeing 
Frederika  for  a  few  minutes.  On  the  third  day  of  my 
visits,  the  hopes  that  were  all  along  entertained  for  the 
recovery  of  the  mother  were  dissipated  by  a  sudden 
change  in  the  weather,  to  which  she  had  been  too  much 
exposed.  All  attempts  to  re-establish  her  failed,  and  her 
life  flickered  away  without  apparent  pain.  Her  death 
seemed  to  produce  a  more  thoughtful  effect  upon  her 


156  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

daughter  than  is  generally  met  with  in  girls  of  her  age. 
She  had  wept  abundantly  for  a  few  hours  after  the 
death,  but  the  following  day  she  was  melancholy  and 
torpid,  noticing  nothing  that  was  said  or  that  passed  be- 
fore her.  That  night  I  saw  Frederika  sitting  on  the 
stoop  of  the  door,  from  whence  her  childish  laugh  often 
attracted  to  her  her  companions.  When  I  stopped  be- 
fore her  she  did  not  look  up  until  I  called  her  by  name. 
On  inquiring  how  all  within  were — how  she  was — she 
replied  that  they  had  been  scolding  her  for  not  eating  all 
day,  but  that  she  could  not,  as  she  had  no  appetite,  and 
was  afraid  she  should  be  sick.  At  daylight  the  next 
morning  I  was  informed  she  was  so. 

When  I  took  her  hand  I  found  it  of  burning  heat ; 
the  skin  was  spotted,  as  if  from  erysipelas ;  she  was 
drowsy,  and  answered  only  in  monosyllables.  Her  kind 
physician  had  been  to  see  her,  and  used  all  appliances 
to  moderate  the  symptoms,  which  were  of  the  type  per- 
niciou.s,  but  in  vain.  On  that  evening  her  playmates 
heard  of  her  calamity,  and  assembled  together  for  a  visit. 
When  five  or  six  entered,  her  eye  wandered  listlessly 
from  one  to  the  other,  holding  them  alternately  by  the 
hand,  and  beckoning  them  back  as  they  stepped  back 
to  leave  her.  Kot  a  word  passed  between  them ;  their 
hearts  alone  were  communing  through  their  eyes.  What 
passed  in  Frederika's  mind  these  little  ones  could  con- 
jecture better  than  I.  I  withdrew,  leaving  her  to  the 
consolation  of  their  silent  presence. 

On  the  next  morning  a  great  change  was  visible.  Her 
mind  wandered  in  utterance  of  broken  sentences  of  En- 
glish and  German.  The  fever  remained  in  full  sway. 
Constant  watching  was  necessary  to  keep  her  in  bed. 
She  did  not  appear  to  suffer  pain.  The  prognostic  of  a 
hasty  death  was  fearfully  manifest.  The  unsteady  eye, 
indifference  to  all  around,  and  nervous  twitchings  of  the 
frame,  assured  this.     One  of  her  playmates  entered  the 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN  157 

room — one  who  esteemed  her  of  all  others,  because  she 
was  the  joy  of  her  playtime.  Her  demand  of  Frederika 
if  she  did  not  know  her  was  this  only  time  sensibly  re- 
turned by  the  question,  "  Can  I  ever  forget  you,  dear 

?"     The  effect  of  this  reply  upon  her  little  visitor 

was  heart-rending.  The  latter  wept  and  sobbed  over 
the  hand  held  to  her,  begging  her  not  to  die ;  that  if  she 
did,  she  was  sure  God  would  receive  her  in  heaven,  as 
she  was  so  good,  etc.,  etc. 

Later  in  the  day  every  moment  appeared  to  be  her 
last.  Several  of  the  children  lingered  around  the  prem- 
ises all  day.  There  was  a  long  interval  of  silence  with- 
out the  movement  of  a  muscle,  mortification  now  having 
set  in.  She  looked  as  if  communing  with  some  invisible 
spirit  by  the  motion  of  her  lips  and  dreamy  expression 
of  the  eye,  in  which  the  "rapt  soul  seemed  setting." 
All  at  once  she  exclaimed,  in  a  soft  tone,  "I  see  you, 
my  mother,  in  heaven ;  I  will  come  soon."  The  effect 
of  these  words  heightened  the  impression  made  by  her 
appearance ;  she  even  looked  more  angelic.  I  pictured 
to  myself  the  sunshine  of  a  spotless  soul  about  bursting 
from  its  tenement  of  corruptible  matter.  In  a  few  min- 
utes more  she  glanced  around  her,  and  now,  with  recov- 
ered faculties  and  aware  of  her  situation,  as  she  saw  her 
little  friends  and  family  wiping  the  tears  from  their  eyes, 
she  exclaimed,  '  Do  not  weep  for  me.  Good-by,  father ; 
good-by,  grandpa."  Good-by  to  each  and  every  one 
was  given,  with  their  names,  as  she  took  their  hands. 
No  one  proffered  a  word ;  the  children  were  riveted  to 
the  spot,  intent  on  their  gaze.  Their  little  Frederika 
closed  her  eyes  for  a  minute,  when,  after  one  violent 
convulsion,  she  glided  smoothly  from  life,  through  death, 
to  that  heaven  which  she  did  but  dream  of,  and,  was 
there. 

At  night  a  harbor  made  of  reeds  was  erected  in  the 
yard.     Over  this  musquito  netting  was  tastefully  fes- 


158  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAI^. 

toonecl,  and  on  a  table  within,  covered  with  white  cloth, 
lay  the  corpse.  A  neighboring  modiste,  who  was  as 
much  interested  in  the  child  from  her  beauty  and  sweet- 
ness of  disposition  as  from  sympathy  for  the  loss  that 
her  own  children  felt  by  this  death,  assisted  in  dressing 
the  corpse.  The  crown  of  white  flowers,  white  satin 
shppers  and  mushn  dress,  in  which  she  had  made  her 
first  communion,  were  tastefully  placed  ujDon  her.  Her 
hands,  clasped  on  her  breast,  held  within  them  a  cruci- 
fix, and  her  long  auburn  ringlets  carelessly  fell  upon  her 
shoulders ;  artificial  and  natural  flowers,  the  offerings  of 
her  playmates,  lay  strewed  about  in  profusion.  Here 
lingered,  late  that  night  and  all  of  the  morning  of  the 
next  day,  her  mourning  companions,  attracting  many  a 
passer-by  to  gaze  upon  lovehness  in  death.  Here,  too, 
fell  the  first  tears  for  a  severed  friendship — here  gushed 
the  first  vintage  of  crushed  and  tender  hearts. 

With  the  greater  part  of  those  who  die  by  black 
vomit  the  skin  becomes  of  a  lemon-yellow  tint  a  little 
before  or  immediately  after  death.  It  is  not  rare  to 
meet  with  exceptions,  and  then  only  from  a  short  sick- 
ness. The  corpse  of  Frederika  preserved  until  the  next 
morning  its  life-like  fullness,  expression,  and  color. 
Waxlike  as  it  was  wont  to  be,  it  was  difScult  to  believe 
she  was  dead ;  the  repulsiveness  of  death  was  not  there 
to  affright  the  little  ones.  To  me  her  features  recalled 
the  beautiful  fines  of  Shelley  on  lanthe : 

"Her  dewy  eyes  are  closed, 
And  on  their  lids,  whose  texture  fine 
Scarce  hides  the  dark  blue  orbs  beneath, 
The  baby  sleep  is  pillowed ; 
Her  golden  tresses  shade 
The  bosom's  stainless  pride. 
Curling  like  tendrils  of  the  parasite 
Around  a  marble  column." 

This  was  a  fatal  day  in  my  neighborhood.  It  did  not 
occur  to  me  to  notice  the  non-appearance  of  my  neigh- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  159 

bors  on  tlie  street  or  at  their  doors  for  two  or  tliree  days 
at  a  time,  nor  would  tlie  circumstance  of  a  store  or  shop 
being  shut  up  infer  more  than  business  was  slack,  or 
that  the  tenant  was  busy  with  the  sick.  It  accordingly 
surprised  me  to  hear  that  a  female  opposite  and  a  tailor 
two  doors  above  me  had  both  died  that  night.  Both 
were  in  circumstances  to  be  independent  of  relief  from 
our  association.  The  increase  of  the  epidemic  became 
now  appalling.  My  associates  and  the  assistants  who 
had  the  charge  with  me  of  the  second  district  began  to 
experience  great  difficulty  in-  procuring  nurses  for  the 
sick.  New  cases  constantly  presenting  themselves  made 
it  impossible  for  us  to  give  but  a  few  minutes  to  each 
patient.  In  the  other  districts  the  association  found  it 
both  more  beneficial  and  economical  to  establish  infirm- 
aries. The  necessity  of  one  in  my  district  became 
urgent.  The  Board  of  Health,  which  had  an  appropria- 
tion of  $50,000  from  the  city  for  charitable  and  relief 
purposes,  appointed,  from  our  association,  superintend- 
ents to  carry  out  their  views  also  in  the  establishment 
of  infirmaries. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Action  of  Board  of  Health. — The  Globe  Ball-room  Infirmaiy. — Nurses. 
— Conveyances  of  Sick. — The  Rag-picker's  Family. — Admissions  to 
the  Infirmary. 

Ok  Friday,  the  12th  of  August,  the  Board  ordered  a 
suitable  building  to  be  rented  in  the  second  district. 
At  an  intimation  from  a  friend  that  the  Globe  Ball-room, 
a  building  iised  for  years  past  as  the  saturnalia  of  the 
depraved  portion  of  our  population,  was  complete  in  its 
arrangement  of  rooms  and  eligible  on  account  of  its  lo- 
cality for  an  infirmary,  I  made  a  successful  application 
to  the  proprietor  for  its  occupation.  The  promptness 
of  its  donation,  at  a  mere  nominal  rent,  for  a  use  which 


160  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

was  calculated  to  injure  its  future  lease,  is  another  in- 
stance of  noble  sacrifice  that  we  are  proud  to  point  at. 
Citizens  were  ever  ready  to  step  forward  to  assuage  the 
horrors  of  rumored  or  visible  distress.  "If  it  will  do 
any  good,  although  it  do  my  property  injury,  the  house 
is  at  your  service."  Such  was  the  reply  of  the  proprie- 
tor as  he  handed  me  the  keys.  I  now  hastened  to  make 
a  close  inspection  of  all  j)arts  of  the  building,  prelimi- 
nary to  noting  down  the  furniture  required.  Had  the 
Globe  Ball-room  been  built  for  a  hospital,  the  rooms 
could  not  have  been  planned  off  with  a  better  adapta- 
tion ;  nor  could  the  quietness  of  the  locality,  nor  the 
surroundings,  be  surpassed  by  any  long-established  in- 
firmary. 

The  building  is  in  outline  an  oblong  square,  of  130 
feet  by  40,  occupying  an  islet  of  ground.  On  its  longest 
side,  south,  it  fronts  the  old  Basin  ;  on  its  northern  side, 
the  Place  cVArmes,  whose  refreshing  atmosphere,  under 
the  shade  of  thickly  set  trees,  causes  it  to  be  a  frequent 
evening  resort.  The  only  part  of  it  that  was  occupied 
was  divided  between  a  bar-room  and  a  feed-store,  in  the 
basement,  having  their  entrances  on  the  eastern  front  of 
the  building.  The  remaining  parts  of  the  basement  had 
been  used  as  a  restaurant,  kitchen,  and  lumber-room 
when  the  balls  were  in  season.  The  entrance  was  on 
the  northern  side,  with  circular  steps  leading  to  a  cor- 
ridor on  the  second  story.  The  rooms  now  consisted  of 
the  ball-room,  running  the  length  of  the  building  by  30 
feet  of  its  width,  having  on  its  side  a  bar-room  and 
dressing-room  for  males  and  females.  Every  part  of 
the  house  was  freely  open  to  ventilation  from  numerous 
windows  and  doors.  A  canvas  cloth,  twelve  feet  in 
height,  was  ordered  to  be  fixed  on  a  frame,  to  divide  the 
ball-room  equally  for  male  and  female  patients ;  a  simi- 
lar one  to  partition  off  the  bar-room,  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  male  and  female  convalescents.     A  room 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  161 

alongside  this  was  appropriated  to  patients  in  extremis^ 
or  when  they  became  unmanageable  in  their  cots  or  dis- 
turbing to  others  by  frequent  vomitings  or  ravings. 
Adjoining  the  building  was  a  small  two-story  brick 
house,  then  vacant,  but  commonly  occupied  by  the  les- 
sees of  the  ball-room,  having  communication  from  the 
second  floor  of  the  former,  which  we  rented,  and  appro- 
priated respectively  to  the  store-room,  office,  and  nurses' 
apartments.  The  ticket -office  and  hat  -  depository,  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps,  was  admirably  arranged  to  keep 
the  clothing  of  the  patients  until  they  were  discharged. 
Such  as  recovered  had  their  clothing  returned  them 
cleansed  or  washed,  and  many  went  away  better  ap- 
pareled than  they  entered,  in  the  garments  of  those  who 
had  died. 

Upon  stepping  off  the  room,  it  was  found  that  one 
hundred  cots  could  be  conveniently  ranged  therein. 
Having  made  a  complete  list  of  every  thing  wanted,  it 
did  not  take  more  than  three  hours'  drive  to  the  grocery, 
dry-goods,  crockery,  and  hardware  stores,  to  leave  the 
orders,  or  to  select  the  articles  for  a  delivery  the  next 
morning.  In  the  numerous  streets  to  be  passed  through 
to  visit  a  long  list  of  patients,  by  purchasing  here  and 
there  cots,  mattresses,  and  musquito-bars,  a  sufficient 
quantity  was  that  day  obtained.  It  appeared  that  ev- 
ery thing  favored  completeness,  even  to  the  ready  and 
willing  hands  who  promised  a  delivery  of  cotton  gowns 
for  the  sick,  to  be  delivered  as  fast  as  required.  While 
bargaining  for  these,  I  encountered  a  sprightly  woman 
of  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  who  announced  herself 
to  me  as  just  out  of  employment  in  the  capacity  of  ma- 
tron to  an  infirmary  of  long  standing.  With  the  under- 
standing that  I  should  be  satisfied  with  her  references, 
she  was  to  meet  me  the  next  day  at  the  Globe  Ball-room. 
Her  face  was  full  of  intelligence  and  good-humor,  and  it 
pleased  me  to  learn,  after  strict  inquiry,  that  her  conduct 


162  DIABY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

and  capacity  had  gained  her  the  repntation  of  the  best 
of  nurses.  She  had  left  her  late  place  on  account  of  the 
onerousness  of  its  duties,  and  the  monotony  of  a  service 
in  one  place  for  many  years. 

The  following  day  she  superintended  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  cots,  and  the  tearing  of  cotton  as  sheets  for 
the  beds.  On  returning  at  intervals  of  two  or  three 
hours,  I  saw  comiDleteness  rapidly  approaching.  The 
sailmaker  had  spread  the  partition  canvas.  The  nu- 
merous mirrors  which  studded  the  walls  were  covered 
with  cotton  cloth,  the  beds  blanketed  and  sheeted,  the 
musquito-bars  suspended,  and  strips  of  coarse  matting 
put  down  on  the  main  walks  between  the  cots.  A  stool 
placed  aside  of  each  cot  was  supplied  with  a  cup  and 
small  pitcher.  In  the  orchestral  part  two  cots  had  also 
been  placed.  During  that  day  engagements  were  also 
made  for  a  daily  supply  of  ice,  bread,  milk,  and  meat. 
Upon  retiring  that  night,  it  was  a  great  relief  to  know 
that,  by  the  morrow  or  the  day  after,  many  who  were 
suffering  from  want  of  proper  attendance  at  their  homes, 
from  the  increased  calls  on  physicians,  or  the  difficulty 
of  obtaining  nurses,  could  be  removed  here  and  be  in 
comparative  luxury. 

An  advertisement  for  experienced  male  and  female 
nurses  was  answered  by  the  application  of  three  times 
as  many  as  were  wanted.  I  was  not  aware  until  after- 
ward of  the  preference  given  to  hospital  over  private 
nursing.  A  selection  of  twelve  was  made  from  their 
physical  appearance,  and  for  their  fluency  in  speaking 
both  French  and  German.  A  long  colloquy  was  held 
as  each  detailed  his  ability  and  practice.  Their  express- 
ed earnestness  for  the  amelioration  of  humanity  would 
have  led  a  listener  to  believe  they  desired  indulgence  in 
the  good  work  beyond  the  pay.  Those  selected  were  en- 
gaged at  $30  to  $40  per  month.  The  matron  had  never 
seen  any  of  them  before,  nor  did  I  consult  her  opinion ; 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  163 

but  was  miicli  pleased  with,  my  selection,  remarking  that 
the  less  they  knew  the  more  serviceable  she  could  make 
them.  This  I  afterward  perceived.  Most  of  the  appli- 
cants had  been  subjects  in  hospitals,  where,  during  a  long 
convalescence,  they  had  acquired  a  passion  for  waiting 
on  the  sick,  which  became  so  strong  as  to  be  adopted  as 
a  pursuit  for  a  livelihood  in  preference  to  a  more  lucra- 
tive employment.  I  learned  afterward,  though,  that  the 
peculiar  fascination  for  it  with  some  arose  from  the  op- 
portunities which  they  had  of  possessing  themselves  of 
valuables,  which,  the  sick  are  loth  to  give  up  on  enter- 
ing a  hospital,  but  conceal  about  their  persons  in  a  belt, 
or  cravat,  or  elsewhere.  I  had  no  sooner  discovered 
this  than  I  required  the  clerk  of  admissions  to  require 
of  the  sick  to  deliver  their  valuables  on  a  receipt  from 
him,  with  the  admonition  to  the  patient  that,  if  he  did 
not,  there  was  a  certainty  of  his  being  robbed. 

The  most*  important  feature  of  the  infirmary  was  de- 
Isijed  until  the  last  —  the  engagement  of  two  regular 
physicians.  To  make  a  selection  from  so  many  would 
be  invidious,  and  would  display  arrogance  on  my  part 
in  assuming  the  ability  to  discriminate  between  talent. 
This  responsibility  I  endeavored  to  throw  upon  the  may- 
or or  the  Board  of  Health ;  they  viewed  it  in  the  same 
light,  and  left  me  no  alternative.  At  one  swoop  I  could 
silence  the  complaints  of  my  American  friends,  as  it  was 
indispensable  that  the  visiting  physicians  should  speak 
French  and  German,  of  which  languages  they  are  gen- 
erally ignorant.  More  than  twenty  physicians,  who  had 
assiduously  given  their  services  without  pay,  were  to 
be  selected  from — all  equally  successful,  though  of  dif- 
ferent practice  ;  I  could  censure  none ;  so  I  placed  their 
names  in  a  hat,  and  drew.  The  choice  pleased  me.  I 
drew  another;  it  was  equally  satisfactory.  Upon  call- 
ing on  the  first,  he  excused  himself,  owing  to  multiplici- 
ty of  private  practice.     It  was  not  until  late  at  night, 


164  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

after  frequent  calls,  that  I  found  the  other  at  home,  who 
reluctantly  consented,  with  the  understanding  that  he 
was  to  select  his  confrere.  On  mentioning  the  pay — 
$250  per  month — he  refused  to  accept  it,  as  he  thought 
it  no  consideration,  but  allowed  his  generous  impulses 
to  sway  the  promise  of  remuneration  in  doing  what  he 
considered  a  charity,  albeit  an  interference  with  the  prof- 
itable pursuit  of  his  private  practice. 

That  night  until  three  A.M.  was  occupied  in  going  the 
rounds  of  my  patients,  which  now  summed  up  seventy- 
two.  I  prevailed  upon  many  with  fairy-like  representa- 
tions of  comfort,  of  what  was  in  store  for  them  on  the 
morrow,  and  noted  the  names  of  such  as  desired  me  to 
send  wagons  for  their  removal  to  the  Globe  Ball-room. 
These  wagons  were  on  springs,  furnished  with  a  mat- 
tress, and  were  stationed  for  this  purpose  before  the  dif- 
ferent recorders'  offices.  Many  of  my  joatients,  though 
in  their  second  or  third  day,  I  was  advised  to  move,  as 
death  hovered  around  with  certainty  of  his  victim  so 
long  as  squalid  misery  and  tainted  atmosphere  were 
present.  So  much  was  this  their  condition  that  nurses 
would  fly  at  the  sight  of  them,  before  even  more  repuls- 
ive things  would  offend  the  sense.  To  such,  a  change 
of  linen  and  air  was  a  medicine,  and  proved  in  many  in- 
stances beneficial. 

On  Monday,  the  loth  of  August,  at  break  of  day,  I 
found  nearly  all  of  the  engaged  waiting  for  me  at  the 
infirmary.  Notice  had  been  given  in  the  papers  that 
patients  would  be  received  from  this  day.  To  the  hour 
of  eight  no  patient  had  presented  himself  I  returned 
home  to  dispense  different  kinds  of  relief  to  the  fifty  or 
sixty  persons  that  I  invariably  met  there  at  that  hour. 
Among  others  was  an  applicant  for  the  care  of  the  asso- 
ciation to  a  German  family  named  Blaize,  who  occupied 
rooms  over  the  dome  of  the  Orleans  Theatre.  The  same 
application  had  been  made  to  me  the  day  previous,  but 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  165 

I  had  been  "unsuccessful  to  meet  information  of  their 
precise  whereabouts  after  a  tedious  search  through  the 
premises.  This  time  my  guide  led  me  up  the  stairs  in 
the  rear  of  the  coffee-house,  through  a  dark  passage  com- 
municating with  the  dome ;  thence  up  a  frail-construct- 
ed and  movable  stairway  to  a  recess  twelve  feet  square, 
with  a  small  aperture  on  the  roof  for  air  and  light.  The 
protection  of  a  recently -replenished  camphor  cigarette 
barely  saved  me  from  prostration  from  the  effects  of  a 
concentrated  odor  of  old  clothes,  rags,  and  perspiration. 
The  heat  alone  was  insufferable.  By  the  assistance  of  a 
girl  of  fourteen  years,  whom  we  had  aroused  from  a  re- 
pose, we  distinguished  the  sick.  They  were  her  father 
and  two  sisters,  lying  on  an  old  mattress  and  old  clothes 
spread  upon  the  floor.  There  was  no  furniture  in  the 
room ;  a  few  trunks  supplied  the  place  of  chairs  and 
tables.  A  small  tin  bucket,  nearly  drained  of  water, 
was  within  their  reach.  They  had  had  no  physician, 
and  taken  no  medicine.  A  negro,  employed  in  the  bar- 
room below,  had  discovered  their  condition  from  a  curi- 
osity to  know  what  had  become  of  Christine,  the  eldest 
daughter,  whom,  he  said,  he  had  missed  for  a  day  past 
from  her  daily  work  near  the  hydrant.  They  were 
rag-pickers,  and  had  lived  in  these  quarters  for  several 
months,  quiet  and  uncomplaining.  I  determined  upon 
their  removal  at  once,  satisfied  that,  if  left  here,  with  even 
the  best  attention  they  would  perish.  With  the  labor 
of  three  men  they  were  carefully  carried  down  the  rick- 
ety steps,  and  through  the  dark  passages,  and  laid  in  the 
sick-wagon  on  mattresses  en  route  for  the  infirmary. 
They  were  my  first  visitors.  On  my  return  at  noon 
they  had  been  cleanly  sponged,  bathed,  and  garmented, 
and  signified  to  me  the  happiness  they  experienced  in 
the  comparative  luxury  of  clean  sheets,  and  the  anxious 
attendance  of  so  many  to  their  wants.  On  reference  to 
the  register,  I  find  the  father  died  five  days  after  admis- 


166  DIARY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

sion,  and  all  the  cliildren  were  discliarged  well  on  tlie 
ISth  and  20th. 

Here  was  a  signal  instance  of  the  remedial  force  of 
change  of  atmosphere.  The  three  children  first  named 
had  been  seized  with  the  fever  from  twenty-four  to  thir- 
tj-six  hours  before  I  removed  them.  The  commonly 
practiced  injunction  to  preserve  the  temperature  of  a 
room  at  all  hazards  is  unreasonable.  Dr.  Priestley  has 
clearly  shown  that  one  great  and  indispensable  use  of 
respiration  is  to  carry  off  or  lessen  a  certain  quality  in 
the  blood  known  by  name  of  phlogiston.  This  can  only 
be  done  by  pure  air,  which  is  returned  from  the  lungs 
with  the  poisonous  qualities  of  paint  or  lighted  charcoal 
fumes.  My  observations  in  this  particular,  among  pa- 
tients found  in  un ventilated  or  filthy  places,  when  re- 
moved to  the  purer  air  of  the  infirmary  at  a  progressed 
stage  of  the  fever,  or  even  immediately  after  the  crisis, 
have  been  confirmatory  of  the  beneficial  advantages. 

Before  night  seventeen  admissions  were  recorded,  ten 
of  which  were  German,  two  French,  two  Swiss,  and  two 
Irish,  and  nine  of  these  females.  Nearly  all  of  these 
had  been  treated  before  they  entered,  and  the  majority 
of  them  in  a  progressed  stage.  Out  of  these  first  seven- 
teen eight  died.  This  day  and  night  the  estabhshment 
was  drilled  to  proper  working  order.  The  physicians 
paid  regular  visits  at  eight  A.M.  and  five  P.M.,  and  at 
intermediate  hours  when  sent  for.  The  cook  had  al- 
ways ready  a  large  supply  of  hot  water  for  baths,  to- 
gether with  abundance  of  nourishing  drinks  or  gruel. 
Adele,  as  matron,  had  nothing  that  the  daintiest  could 
complain  of,  while  she  required  of  the  nurses  strict  and 
ready  obedience.  The  male  nurses  were  excluded  from 
the  female  division.  A  cupper  was  lodged  in  the  house, 
to  be  ready  at  a  moment's  notice.  Every  thing  offensive 
to  the  patients  was  removed  instantly.  Indeed,  so  well 
ventilated  were  the  rooms,  and  so  cleanly  kept,  that  dur- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  167 

ing  tlie  whole  occupation  of  them  as  a  hospital  the  pe- 
culiar odor  of  yellow  fever  atmosphere  was  not  more  re- 
markable than  would  be  found  in  the  room  of  a  patient 
of  a  better  class.  The  patients  were  notified  that  a  rap 
on  the  stool  beside  them  would  bring  the  attendant  to 
them,  and  if  not  answered  to  complain  to  the  matron  or 
to  me.  To  each  nurse  was  allotted  a  certain  number  of 
sick,  while  they  were  to  assist  each  other  in  removing 
the  convalescent  or  dying,  or  taking  below  the  corpse. 
"When  they  failed  in  duty  they  were  discharged  without 
mercy.  The  nurses  had  appointed  to  them  their  regu- 
lar day  and  night  watches. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Eliza . — Female  Courage. — Black  Vomit. — Recoveries. — Italian 

Exiles. 

Among  the  names  of  early  patients  to  the  infirmary 
that  of  Eliza is  associated  with  a  melancholy  remi- 
niscence. She  was  of  Irish  parentage,  and  gave  her  age 
as  twenty-one  years.  She  was  accompanied  by  several 
women  and  a  young  man,  whose  interest  in  her  was 
shown  by  the  proffer  of  pay  for  a  private  room,  and  by 
more  than  ordinary  solicitude.  Making  no  distinction 
in  the  treatment  or  comfort  of  our  sick,  the  cot  desig- 
nated to  her  had  to  be  occupied  or  none.  Fortunately 
for  her  aversion  to  a  hospital,  the  one  assigned  to  her 
stood  before  the  door  leading  to  a  small  balcony  on  the 
eastern  side,  more  out  of  the  way  of  passing  attend- 
ants than  others,  and  commanding  a  view  of  the  Place 
d'Armes.  Here  what  was  revolting  to  the  sense  from 
neighboring  sick  could  be  relieved  by  the  aspect  of  na- 
ture in  changing  clouds  and  green  trees,  in  which  are 
pictured  pleasing  groups  to  the  dreamy,  imaginative  eje 
of  the  fevered  sick.    My  attention  was  particularly  drawn 


168  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

to  her  the  day  after  Her  admission  by  the  cupper,  who 
told  me  that  she  resisted  his  endeavors  to  carry  out  the 
orders  of  the  physician.  She  had  just  before  witnessed 
the  operation  of  cupping  on  another,  and  became  so  hor- 
rified at  its  cruelty  that,  when  I  approached,  she  arose 
and  implored  me  with  tears  to  let  her  die  rather  than 
undergo  the  infliction. 

" Do  not  murder  me  with  such  barbarity,"  she  said; 
"  I  could  not  survive  it."  Her  language  and  intonation 
were  remarkably  impressive.  Her  choice  of  words  de- 
noted an  educated  and  sensitive  mind.  "We  finally  per- 
suaded her  of  the  happy  results,  drawing  her  attention 
to  the  heroism  of  the  one  who  had  just  been  cupped,  and 
the  fatal  consequence  to  the  neglect  of  it  in  another,  who 
was  expiring  at  some  distance  from  her.  As  much  as 
she  was  before  repugnant  she  was  now  womanly  brave. 

I  do  not  say  manly  brave  to  express  my  full  mean- 
ing for  voluntary  physical  suffering.  It  would  not  con- 
vey the  fullness  of  meaning  I  desire  to.  To  designate 
the  weakness  or  cowardice  of  men  as  effeminacy  is  a  re- 
proach to  women  not  supported  by  experience  or  facts. 
Women  are  far  superior  to  men  in  moral  courage  and 
physical  endurance.  Physicians  will  tell  you  that  she 
does  not  so  often  shrink  as  man  does  from  surgical  op- 
erations, while  we  have  the  voice  of  history  that,  wher- 
ever they  have  braved  the  public  eye,  their  self-posses- 
sion has  been  so  unwavering  as  to  instill  courage  and 
confidence  to  their  hearers  and  followers  of  the  other  sex. 

In  this  LQstance,  with  all  the  horror  she  felt,  she  sub- 
mitted throughout  the  scarifying  and  cupping  without  a 
movement  of  the  frame,  without  even  a  shudder ;  while 
I  have  seen  men  of  athletic  proportions,  inured  to  haz- 
ards and  to  danger,  not  only  writhe  at  every  stage  of  its 
application,  but  fairly  roar  out  like  wounded  bears.  The 
cupping,  to  her,  had  its  usual  composing  and  somnolent 
effect.     I  left  her  in  full  faith  of  its  efficacy.     Until  the 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  169 

evening  of  the  next  day  her  symptoms  were  promising, 
and  she  became  even  cheerful  in  the  anticipation  of  leav- 
ing her  bed  in  two  or  three  days.  She  was  disposed  to 
be  talkative  with  the  sick  near  her,  and  offered  consola- 
tion to  them  during  their  sufferings.  She  had  frequent 
conversations  with  Father  L.  when  he  made  his  rounds 
of  the  sick,  but,  being  a  Protestant,  she  did  not  partici- 
pate in  rites  he  was  constantly  administering  to  others. 
For  some  days  she  had  complained  of  the  stringent  rules 
of  the  infirmary,  which  forbade  admission  to  friends  to 
see  patients  until  the  latter  were  certainly  convalescent. 
As  I  was  passing  her  one  morning,  she  called  me  by 
name  and  said, 

"A  few  words  to  you,  sir,  in  private;  and  do  not 
blame  me  for  being  complaining  when  you  have  all  been 
so  kind  to  me,  neither  deceive  me  in  your  answer.  The 
reason  of  all  you  will  know  hereafter." 

"  I  am  all  ear,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  then,  sir,  the  identical  heaviness  of  heart,  which 
I  never  felt  before,  nor  since  I  left  my  parents,  now  pos- 
sesses me.  Be  candid  with  me.  Does  it  prognosticate 
ill,  or  am  I  really  getting  well?" 

I  told  her  the  crisis  was  passed,  and  her  symptoms 
were  of  the  most  promising ;  in  support  of  which,  I  re- 
ferred to  the  description  of  nourishment  ordered  for  her 
by  the  physician. 

"  But  why,  if  it  be  so,"  she  continued,  "  do  you  forbid 
my  friends  to  see  me  now  ?  The  nurse  has  just  told  me 
that  my  cousin  was  sent  away  this  morning.  I  sincere- 
ly wish  to  see  him." 

I  left  her  with  the  comfortable  assurance  that  she 
should,  and  gave  directions  to  retain  him  until  my  ar- 
rival when  he  should  come  on  the  morrow.  The  next 
day  she  held  her  hand  to  me  and  said, 

"I  have  been  so  happy;  but  what  misery,  after  the 
dreams  of  friends  and  home,  to  awake  to  the  reality  of 

H 


170  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAlSr. 

being  here.  You  remember  your  promise  to  admit  my 
cousin  to  me  to-day  ?"  As  she  said  this,  her  blue  eyes 
beamed  with  hope  and  anticipated  joy,  which  explained 
to  me  the  nature  of  her  attachment  for  her  cousin. 

' '  I  feel  well — very  well  to-day, ' '  she  continued, ' '  though 
I  was  somewhat  sick  last  night,  and  could  not  retain  the 
gruel  given  me;  but  that  is  nothing,  for  I  am  out  of 
danger.     Oh !  if  I  could  only  see  him." 

As  she  threw  her  head  aside  with  a  sigh,  a  slight  con- 
vulsive movement  of  the  throat  was  followed  by  a  small 
quantity  of  the  dreaded,  unmistakable  black  vomit  ooz- 
ing from  the  corner  of  her  mouth.  She  saw  it,  but  her 
thoughts  were  elsewhere,  and  did  not  notice  the  surprise 
it  gave  me.  I  hastily  wiped  it  from  her  mouth  and 
neck  as  she  lay  with  contracted  brow  drawing  up  some 
reminiscence  deep  from  the  recess  of  thought. 

On  directing  the  attention  of  the  physician  to  her,  she 
was  removed,  with  her  cot,  to  the  room  in  which  we 
placed  those  like  her,  who  were  apt,  in  a  little  more  ad- 
vanced stage,  to  disturb  the  repose  of  the  other  sick. 
Adele  interested  herself  in  the  different  apj^liances  to 
counteract  the  sudden  turn  which  the  disease  had  taken 
in  her.  At  noon  her  cousin  was  admitted  to  see  her. 
She  was  in  a  stupor.  He  begged  us  not  to  arouse  her 
if  it  were  likely  to  prove  injurious,  asking  permission 
to  be  admitted  again  in  the  morning.  During  the  night 
she  was  one  of  the  most  unmanageable  of  our  patients, 
alternately  crying  out  names,  quoting  snatches  of  poetry, 
waving  her  hands,  and  speaking  to  imaginary  objects, 
while  at  intervals  she  would  calmly  make  a  reasonable 
request  of  the  nurse. 

As  with  her,  so  with  others ;  whatever  was  called  for 
in  this  stage  of  the  disease  was  permitted  to  be  given. 
After  the  Pharmacopoeia  had  been  exhausted  of  its 
known  virtues — after  artful  experience  had  failed,  na- 
ture was  desperately  called  in  for  a  suggestion : 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  171 

"For,  where  one's  case  can  be  no  worse, 
The  desperat'st  is  the  wisest  course." 

I  have  had  as  many  as  twelve  patients  with  black  vomit 
at  one  time  in  the  same  room.  Some  asked  for  toddies ; 
others  for  coffee,  milk,  tea,  whisky,  and  brandy,  all  of 
which  we  had  of  superior  quality.  On  asking  some  if 
they  would  have  claret  or  Champagne,  it  was  freely  be- 
stowed. By  an  oversight,  or  rather  from  the  confusion 
attending  the  diversified  wants  of  such  as  were  given  up 
to  the  indulgence  of  any  appetite — as  they  were  to  hope 
— no  memorandum  was  kept  of  the  beverage  drunk  by 
many,  who,  with  this  frightful  symptom  of  dissolution, 
were  found  afterward  in  a  natural  sleep,  with  a  healthy 
pulse  and  skin,  and,  upon  being  replaced  on  their  cots, 
recovered.  The  most  potent  agent  in  arresting  the 
black  vomit,  and  restoring  the  tone  of  the  stomach  so 
as  to  induce  digestion  with  corresponding  appetite,  was 
brandy  toddy  or  milk  punch.  I  have  noticed  two  re- 
coveries through  these  means,  and  witnessed  successful 
results  from  weaker  mixtures  given  as  the  constant  drink 
of  the  patient  after  the  crisis. 

Eliza demanded  coffee  and  milk.     She  appeared 

to  relish  it  much,  and  drank  copiously  of  it,  I  was  told, 
all  night.  Sponging  and  sinapisms  had  been  duly  ap- 
plied to  her.  Early  the  next  morning  the  curiosity  of 
a  wonderful  change  presented  itself  to  us.  Many  hopes 
were  long  entertained  of  her,  and  she  was  carefully 
watched  in  her  diet.  The  physician  assured  us  she  was 
now  safe.  There  was  no  symptom  to  lead  us  to  suspect 
that  this  promise  was  but  the  deceit  previous  to  a  last 
fatal  convulsion.  We  had  her  cot  taken  back  to  its  for- 
mer position.  She  had  not  shown  that  she  was  con- 
scious of  having  been  removed.  Her  first  words  on  rec- 
ognition were,  "Has  James  been  here?"  On  being  in- 
formed of  the  circumstances  attending  his  visit  the  day 
before,  she  continued,  ''  I  know  I  am  well ;  I  feel  I  am 


172  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

well ;  but  why  this  ever  to-morrow  to  my  hopes  ?  I 
dreamed  you  took  me  in  that  room  among  the  dead  peo- 
ple. I  know  I  was  dreaming,  for  I  saw  myself  here, 
and  that  my  cousin  stood  beside  me." 

Such  are  the  unaccountable  hallucinations  in  the  fe- 
vered sick. 

At  noon  her  cousin  called.  I  met  him  on  the  stairs, 
and  gave  him  joy  on  her  recovery.  He  would  not  be 
satisfied  without  seeing  her,  although  I  told  him  her  sit- 
uation was  more  critical  than  ever.  With  the  under- 
standing, however,  that  he  should  not  hold  a  conversa- 
tion with  her,  I  listened  to  his  urgent  appeal.  I  went  in 
advance  of  him,  and  prej)ared  her  for  the  meeting  with 
a  like  caution.  Her  face,  at  the  agreeable  information, 
became  slightly  flushed,  and  her  eye  sparkled  with  joy. 
I  brought  him  to  her  bedside,  again  enjoining  him  to  be 
prudent,  and  stood  apart  to  witness  the  meeting  of  the 
lovers.  Fondly,  yet  delicately  she  grasped  his  hand, 
throwing  a  piercing  gaze  upon  him,  as  if  to  read  the  ef- 
fect her  appearance  made  on  him,  and  by  that  to  read 
her  hopes  of  safety.  "  Eliza !"  "  James !"  were  simulta- 
neous. Thus  they  looked  at  each  other  for  several  min- 
utes, while  their  hands  were  pressing  tighter,  and  a  smile 
was  stamped  on  her  face.  Both  were  tenacious  to  the 
promise  not  to  exchange  words,  albeit  their  hearts  were 
surcharged  for  utterance.  A  little  while,  and  his  face 
expressed  despondency  at  her  situation.  He  relaxed  her 
hand,  and,  raising  both  of  his  to  his  eyes  as  he  turned 
away  his  head,  uttered  a  sob  that  fell  like  a  death-knell 
on  her  ear.  She  read  his  thoughts  and  his  fears  with 
lightning  rapidity,  and  from  them  portrayed  her  own 
fate.  She  read  that  he  despaired  of  her — that  there  was 
a  parting  of  heaven  and  earth — and,  with  a  look  accusing 
me  of  deceit,  her  head  sunk  with  leaden  weight  in  her 
pillow,  uttering  a  guttural  sound  and  obscuring  her  face 
with  her  arms. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  173 

I  saw  tlie  deed  was  done.  I  blamed  myself  for  trust- 
ing to  Ills  firmness.  In  my  anger  I  reproached  him  for 
hastening,  if  not  causing  her  death,  which  I  soon  regret- 
ted, as  he  keenly  felt  all  I  said,  and  left  the  infirmary 
speechless  as  if  an  arrow  had  transfixed  his  heart. 

Her  fever  returned.  In  half  an  hour  her  pulse  sank. 
Yiolent  heavings  of  the  breast  succeeded,  accompanied 
by  incoherent  ravings.  In  a  few  hours  she  was  a  corpse. 
After  this  I  was  cruel  in  excluding  relatives  or  friends 
when  there  was  the  least  danger  to  be  apprehended  from 
the  interview. 

Her  friends  came  that  evening  and  sat  up  with  the 
corpse  in  an  adjoining  room  until  the  morning,  when 
they  followed  her  to  the  grave.  I  have  never  encoun- 
tered any  of  the  party  since  to  recognize  them,  and  I 
presume  that  this  simple  recital,  to  show  the  importance 
of  caution  in  keeping  off  excitements  of  any  kind  from 
a  patient,  will  not  have  the  effect  to  open  afresh  their 
wounds. 

On  the  16th  of  August  the  admissions  were  twenty- 
four,  divided  about  equally  between  French,  Germans, 
and  Italians.  Those  of  the  latter  were  recently-arrived 
exiles.  They  had  all  occupied  one  room  in  a  back 
building  of  a  house  on  St.  Philip  Street,  where  I  had 
many  patients.  On  my  first  visit  to  this  locality  I  had 
several  times  observed  this  room  tenanted  by  one  of 
them  with  his  wife.  The  latter  was  soon  after  taken 
sick.  Upon  offering  service  and  aid,  I  was  repulsed 
with  the  remark  that  he  had  a  specific  for  the  malaria 
of  Italy  which  he  deemed  efiicacious  for  the  yellow  fe- 
ver. As  near  as  I  could  conjecture,  he  was  treating  her 
a  la  Raspail.  She  shortly  died.  A  few  days  after  they 
held  me  in  conversation,  in  French,  on  the  subject  of  the 
great  mortality  around  them,  and  showed  fears  for  their 
own  safety.  I  recommended  them,  when  ill,  to  seek  the 
infirmary.     One  of  them,  by  name  Hercule,  gained  some- 


174  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

thing  of  a  livelihood  bj  teaching  sword-exercise,  of  which 
many  yet  remember  his  prolicienc3^  His  companions, 
exiled  like  him  for  participation  in  insurrectionary  move- 
ments at  home,  and  only  acquainted  with  the  routine 
of  military  life,  had  yet  no  ostensible  means  of  support. 
They  were  a  vivacious  trio,  and  seemed  to  laugh  at  the 
court  of  death  around  them  as  they  quaffed  their  sour 
wine  to  a  frugal  repast.  They  promised  to  seek  more 
agreeable  quarters  when  sickness  should  prostrate  them. 
In  walking  through  the  wards  a  few  days  afterward  to 
look  at  the  new-comers  of  the  day,  I  no  sooner  recog- 
nized them  than  they  exchanged  words  in  Italian,  and 
stretched  out  their  hands  to  me.  They  spoke  of  the 
room,  its  queer  conversion  to  its  present  use,  and  dis- 
turbed the  otherwise  sober  and  quiet  by  witty  compar- 
isons of  their  situation  now  and  when  they  had  once  vis- 
ited it.  I  did  not  encourage  this,  though  I  was  glad  to 
see  in  their  dauntlessness  and  good  spirits  a  hopeful 
prognostic  of  convalescence.  At  night  I  again  passed 
them.  Hercule  was  the  spirit  of  the  party,  and  kept  his 
companions  in  good-humor  by  his  soldier-philosophy. 
He  talked  of  life  as  if  it  were  "to  lose  a  thing  which 
none  but  fools  would  keep."  I  told  him  he  must  sleep 
and  be  quiet,  and  retain  his  fun  until  his  fever  was  al- 
layed. "  Sleep !"  said  he ;  "  have  we  not  all  eternity  to 
sleep  in  ?"     I  passed  on  to  others. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  marked  change  for  the 
worse  in  Hercule.  The  other  two  were  in  doubtful  con- 
dition. The  tendency  of  the  disease  in  the  former  was 
cephalistic.  He  bore  cupping  and  blisters  as  playthings, 
throwing  off  remarks,  in  the  mean  while,  which  brought 
laughter  from  his  companions.  At  night  the  disease  had 
not  been  manageable,  and  he  was  in  a  stupor.  On  the 
next  morning,  to  my  regret,  I  found  he  had  been  re- 
moved to  the  dying-room,  and  there  I  saw  him  rolling 
and  writhing  in  convulsive  agony,  but  insensible  to  any 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  175 

thing  addressed  to  him.  I  offered  different  drinks,  wliicli 
he  cast  off  with  force,  accompanied  by  what  I  thought 
an  apologetic  look  toward  me  for  my  perseverance.  Vic- 
tor and  Michaud  were  wanting  in  their  usual  welcome 
to  me.  I  sat  between  their  cots,  asked  how  they  felt, 
and  inquired  if  all  their  wants  had  been  met.  Despond- 
ency at  the  loss  of  their  merry  friend,  and,  I  believe,  their 
sole  dependence  in  health,  seemed  to  have  overpowered 
them.  They  merely  answered  to  the  squeeze  of  my 
hand.  The  nurse  told  me  that  they  did  not  converse 
with  each  other  afterward.  The  day  following  they  were 
restless,  with  the  full  complexion  of  a  wasting  fever.  At 
night  I  was  present  when  Father  L.  was  in  long  con- 
verse with  them,  and  we  received  from  them  an  expres- 
sion of  gratitude  for  all  that  had  been  done  to  them,  "  in 
a  world,"  they  said,  "in  which  they  never  had  occasion 
to  offer  it  before  to  man."  Thus  died  two  men,  who,  I 
inferred  from  their  conversations,  were  educated  to  the 
monotonous  servility  of  a  soldier's  life,  where  all  sense 
of  what  is  noble  in  immortality  had  been  deadened 
within  them  until  their  last  moments.  Their  mere  duty 
as  puppets  absorbed  all  higher  considerations.  They 
did  not  perish,  however,  without  one  draught  of  religious 
hope,  repentance,  and  reliance  on  the  mercy  of  their 
God  for  their  ignorance  and  neglect  of  another  duty 
and  service,  which  makes  the  poor  man's  exit  the  rich 
man's  envy. 


176  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

A  Family  from  Metz. — Admissions. — Convalescent  Infirmary. — Little 
Billy. — A  Drive  thi'ough  the  Cemeteries  at  Midnight. 

I  HAD  been  active  from  day  to  day  in  removing  to  tlie 
infirmary  all  new  patients,  as  nurses  could  not  be  found 
for  them,  and  for  the  convenience  of  concentrating  my 
labors  in  one  place.  While  thus  engaged,  I  was  accost- 
ed by  Dr. ,  who  urged  me  to  visit  immediately  a 

family  dwelling  in Street,  whom  he  represented  as 

being  very  worthy,  and  reduced  to  claim  our  charity. 
To  the  attic  of  a  one-story  house  I  was  shown  by  a  slave, 
who  had  descended  to  let  me  in.  Three  rooms  were 
scantily  though  cleanly  furnished.  One  was  used  as  a 
sitting-room,  and  the  other  two  as  bedrooms.  In  the 
first  of  the  latter  that  I  entered  I  saw  that  the  bedding 
had  been  taken  from  the  bedsteads ;  in  the  second,  which 
was  the  smallest  room,  I  found  two  mattresses  on  the 
floor  beside  a  trundle-bed.  In  the  latter  lay  a  young 
woman  and  a  boy,  and  on  the  former  a  young  man.  The 
heat  from  the  roof  was  intolerable.  When  the  mother 
of  these  children  was  apprised  of  my  visit  by  the  slave, 
she  pictured  in  her  manner  the  wildest  distress  as  she 
flung  up  her  arms  and  pointed  despondingly  toward  her 
children.  Her  children  then  were  constantly  ejaculat- 
ing comfort  to  her.  I  saw  that  all  stood  equally  in  need 
of  it,  and  told  her  she  must  now  command  me.  "  I  will 
tell  you  all  in  a  few  words,"  she  said :  ^' I  am  poor.  The 
papers  in  that  tin  box  will  tell  you  what  we  have  been. 
Save  them — save  us — all  of  us,  or  leave  us  all  to  die." 
My  sympathies  or  feelings  had  never  yet  been  excited 
to  such  a  pitch.     I  was  determined  to  do  every  thing 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  177 

that  suggested  itself,  and  if  they  could  not  be  moved  to 
tlie  infirmary,  to  triumph,  in  saving  them  by  a  change 
to  better-furnished  rooms  in  the  same  building.  The 
physician  had  followed  me,  and  just  entered.  Philome- 
ne,  aged  sixteen,  and  her  brother  Charles,  aged  nine, 
were  in  the  trundle-bed.  Philias,  aged  eighteen,  was  the 
name  of  the  young  man  on  the  mattress.  The  latter 
was  suffering  from  a  relapse  of  a  fever  cured  some  weeks 
previous ;  the  other  two  had  been  taken  the  night  pre- 
vious. The  physician  advised  me  to  move  the  first  to 
the  infirmary,  and,  if  possible,  furnish  a  nurse  for  the  lat- 
ter. Both  I  consented  to  do,  and  started  to  procure  the 
wagon  for  the  sick.  On  my  return,  another  daughter, 
by  name  Euphemie,  aged  eleven  years,  entered  with  a 
parcel  from  the  apothecary.  She  cried  piteously  when 
she  learned  that  they  were  to  be  separated,  and  almost 
wrought  her  mother  to  a  phrensy.  What  to  do  for  a 
nurse  for  Philias  troubled  me.  I  had  been  inquiring  for 
several  daily  without  success.  I  expected  to  be  no  more 
successful  now.  I  told  him  I  would  spend  half  of  the 
night  with  him,  and,  if  no  other  assistance  offered,  I  would 
spare  a  nurse  from  the  infirmary. 

"  You  can  do  nothing  for  me,"  said  Philias.  "  Eather 
give  your  time  to  my  brother  and  sister;  save  them; 
and  support  my  poor  mother  until  her  relations  in  France 
answer  to  the  letters  we  have  written  them.  For  me 
there  is  no  hope,  for  I  was  cautioned  against  a  relapse." 

And,  noble  soul !  how  did  he  thus  brave  such  fatali- 
ty? He  had  not  fairly  stepped  from  the  influence  of 
the  danger  himself,  than,  upon  learning  of  a  friend's  pros- 
tration, he  devoted  himself  to  the  enervating  cares  of  the 
night- watcher  at  the  bedside.  This  unadvised  and  im- 
prudent step,  before  twenty -four  hours'  service,  canon- 
ized him  a  martyr  to  friendship. 

I  noticed  the  feeble  frame  of  Euphemie  as  she  was 
preparing  a  sinapism  for  her  brother.    Continued  atten- 

H2 


178  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

tions  to  the  sick  would  be  fatal  to  her,  and  I  requested 
the  mother  to  allow  her  to  sleep  that  night.  The  latter 
looked  at  me,  and  signified  her  dissent  by  shaking  her 
head.  Philomene  and  Charles  were  now  ready  to  be 
carried  to  the  wagon. 

Tha  parting  of  friends  in  health,  though  sorrowful, 
bears  with  it  the  consolatory  pleasure  of  meeting  again ; 
but  to  gaze  upon  a  brother  or  sister  in  the  embraces  of 
death,  with  no  such  hope,  is  an  experience  replete  with 
bitter  reflections.  The  endearing  words  exchanged  are 
not  to  be  written :  it  is  a  sacrilege  of  the  heart  to  repeat 
them  when  they  are  not  felt.  Philomene  and  Charles 
were  assisted  to  the  side  of  Philias,  and  as  they  mur- 
mured their  affection,  sympathies,  and  hopes,  but,  most 
of  all,  their  prayers  to  God  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
assemble  them  all  near  to  him,  a  heart  of  stone  would 
have  melted.  Each  kissed  the  crucifix  suspended  from 
the  neck  of  Philomene.  The  mother  the  meanwhile 
rested  her  head  despairingly  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  My 
assurance  that  every  thing  should  be  provided  for  their 
comfort  and  her  necessities  brought  no  reply.  Philo- 
mene and  Charles  were  carried  to  the  wagon.  Euphe- 
mie  and  I  accompanied  them.  On  arrival  at  the  "  Globe" 
I  had  them  carefully  taken  up  stairs  and  placed  in  cots 
aside  each  other.  Father  L.  happened  to  be  there,  and 
on  his  approach  and  conversation  they  became  more  rec- 
onciled to  the  change.  Euphemie  was  provided  with  a 
cot  in  the  nurse's  apartment,  where  I  insisted  upon  her 
retiring  for  repose,  after  she  had  taken  some  refresh- 
ment. In  an  hour  afterward  I  found  both  patients  more 
hopeful,  and  improved  in  appearance  and  in  spirits.  I 
took  with  me  a  nurse  from  the  infirmary  for  Philias,  and 
provided  every  thing  requisite  for  the  comfort  of  the 
mother.  In  the  morning  early,  on  my  way  to  the  in- 
firmary, I  stopped  to  see  how  she  was.  I  found  her  in 
the  ante-room,  packing  away  papers,  and  books,  and 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  179 

clotliing  in  boxes  and  trunks  as  methodically  as  if  she 
was  preparing  to  set  out  on  a  journey.  When  she  be- 
held me  she  made  no  sign  of  recognition,  but  continued 
her  occupation,  leaving  me  to  infer  that  her  son  was  de- 
ceased. Advancing  to  the  next  room,  I  saw,  too,  that 
Philias  was  not  there.  She  now  told  me  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  die  apart  from  his  brother  and  sister,  and  he  pre- 
vailed upon  a  friend  to  take  him  to  the  infirmary  in  a 
cab  an  hour  previous  to  my  arrival.  The  mother  ex- 
pressed her  intention  to  follow  as  soon  as  she  finished 
packing  up.  As  we  were  placing  the  trunks  and  boxes 
in  a  corner,  she  directed  my  attention  to  one  trunk,  in 
which  was  a  tin  box  of  papers  explaining  who  and  what 
they  were.  ''Should  I  not  live  to  satisfy  you  on  that 
point,"  she  said,  "the  papers  there  will  tell  you  of  the 
hardships  we  have  undergone  and  the  respectability  of 
my  family."  After  locking  the  doors,  she  descended 
with  me  to  the  cab  for  the  infirmary. 

She  appeared  self-possessed,  and  nerved  for  the  worst. 
From  the  first  sight  of  her  I  had  been  struck  with  her 
easy  manners,  indicative  of  one  who  had  seen  better 
days.  There  was  a  delicacy  in  accepting  my  services 
or  aid,  as  well  as  in  mentioning  her  wants,  that  commis- 
eration or  charity  shown  to  such  a  one  causes  the  offerer 
unhappiness  for  the  sense  of  dependence  he  has  created. 
Her  gratitude  for  being  saved  from  the  sight  of  her  chil- 
dren perishing  in  misery  was  couched  in  the  most  feel- 
ing language.  I  told  her  there  were  many  like  her, 
and  enumerated  instances  of  worse  distress  as  we  rode 
along. 

"I  have  not  words,  sir,"  she  said,  "  to  thank  you  for 
this  disinterested  kindness,  for  it  is  bestowed  upon  one 
whose  recent  life  has  been  a  succession  of  misfortunes 
and  hardships,  without  a  friend  able  to  give  us  more 
than  their  pity  or  sympathy.  From  the  time  I  fled  from 
penury  in  France,  after  the  death  of  my  husband,  until 


180  DIAEY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

I  reached  ISTew  York,  and  thence  to  ISTew  Orleans  by 
land,  I  was  subjected  to  all  kinds  of  impositions  and  pri- 
vations. Until  I  reached  here  I  had  not  known  an  as- 
sisting hand.  When  we  landed  at  Peoria,  out  of  money 
to  proceed  farther,  we  thought  that  even  in  a  wilderness 
our  honest  industry  would  support  us ;  but  ignorance  of 
your  language,  added  to  a  hostihty  to  our  rehgion,  shut 
us  out  from  employment  there.  By  pawning  jewelry 
and  clothing  we  were  enabled  to  pay  the  debts  we  had 
incurred,  and  to  obtain  deck-passage  on  a  steamer  to 
New  Orleans.  The  sight  of  our  country  people  here 
opened  a  new  life  to  us.     By  the  assistance  of  Father 

we  obtained  recommendations  to  families  who  gave 

us  work.  Phihas  shortly  obtained  a  situation  at  $40 
per  month,  and  we  actually  found,  at  the  end  of  the 
month,  that  we  were  supporting  ourselves.  How  hap- 
py were  we  in  our  retired  rooms,  when  we  talked  over 
all  we  had  passed  through,  and  contemplated  the  hap- 
piness of  the  present  and  the  future !  You  can  not,  sir, 
appreciate  the  feelings  of  a  weak  woman  who  at  last  saw 
her  children  cheerful  in  a  new  home.  The  fever  came. 
Philias  was  one  of  the  first  victims.  As  our  chief  reli- 
ance was  on  him,  you  may  imagine  the  anxiety  and  care 
with  which  we  tended  him.  Our  thanks  were  daily 
made  to  God  for  his  deliverance.  He  thought  himself 
so  well,  a  few  days  after  he  was  permitted  to  walk  out, 
that  he  could  nurse  a  friend  who  was  then  taken  sick. 
The  exertion  was  too  much,  and  he  was  again  ill.  On 
the  same  night  his  brother  and  sister  also  were  taken. 
What  little  we  had  saved  was  exhausted  on  him  before 
this.     You  know  and  see  the  rest." 

She  then  offered  me  her  keys,  which  I  refused  to  take, 
with  the  remark  that  she  acted  as  if  she  never  would 
have  use  for  them.  "I  shall  not,"  she  replied,  "  if  Phili- 
as dies.  None  of  us  could  survive  him ;  I  know  I  can 
not." 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  181 

Upon  entering  the  infirmary,  she  found  Father  L.  at 
the  bedside  of  Philias.  For  some  minutes  she  bent  over 
him,  while  burning  tears  coursed  down  her  cheeks,  but 
not  a  sob.  She  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  him  now. 
I  was  too  much  affected  to  reply.  She  read  my  doubts, 
and  hastened  from  him  to  Philomene  and  Charles  in  the 
next  division.  Here  the  joy  of  meeting  was  affectingly 
mingled  with  sympathy.  Euphemie  had  not  yet  arisen. 
When  we  sought  her  in  the  nurse's  apartment,  her  pulse 
was  unpromising.  Upon  inquiry,  the  nurse  told  me  that 
she  was  restless  and  feverish  during  the  night,  and,  ap- 
prehensive of  her  being  worse,  she  had  given  her  a  foot- 
bath. The  mother  now  saw  that  she  was  the  only  one 
able  to  move  about.  We  used  persuasions  to  make  her 
retire  for  repose,  but  she  would  not  listen  to  them. 

I  returned  at  one  o'clock.  Philias  was  now  sinking 
fast,  and  was  delirious.  It  was  deemed  proper  to  place 
him  with  others  likeaf&icted.  He  recognized  no  one, 
nor  was  he  aware  of  being  moved.  His  mother,  who 
saw  me  enter,  followed  me  to  the  other  division  where 
she  had  left  her  son.  Upon  finding  his  cot  empty,  she 
begged  to  know  where  he  had  been  taken>  There  she 
fell  upon  his  body  with  disheveled  hair,  kissing  him,  and 
pouring  forth  expressions  that  only  a  mother  can  utter 
over  a  dying,  well-beloved  son.  The  effort  was  so  over- 
powering that  she  had  fainted,  and  had  to  be  carried  to 
her  bed.  When  she  recovered  she  piteously  related  to 
her  two  daughters  and  son,  who  were  near  her  in  cots, 
the  dying  condition  of  Philias ;  begged  them  to  recom- 
mend themselves  to  Grod,  and  pray  that  He  should  take 
them  too.  Thus  they  lay  the  entire  night,  the  nurse  told 
me,  wailing  over  their  fate  and  misfortunes. 

In  the  morning  all  were  worse  from  the  loss  of  repose 
and  excitement.  Euphemie  was  in  tears  all  the  time. 
Father  L.  was  assiduous  in  his  ministrations  to  them. 
In  sight  of  each  other,  extreme  unction  was  administer- 


182  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ed,  and  there  they  now  lay  resigned  and  quiet.  The 
mother  refused  nourishment  or  farther  repose.  She  al- 
ternately sat  by  her  children,  comforting  and  weeping 
with  them,  and  praying  for  a  like  visitation  upon  her- 
self. She  said  her  brain  was  on  fire,  and  wondered  she 
could  not  get  the  fever.  The  symptoms  of  Euphemie 
were  promising.  I  begged  the  mother  to  desist  from 
exciting  her ;  that  she,  at  least,  would  be  saved  to  her ; 
and  that  it  was  unchristian  and  selfish  to  wish  all  dead 
because  she  was  tired  of  life  and  worn  down  by  its  cares. 
I  promised  that  I  would  see  to  her  future  provision. 

'' Euphemie,"  she  said,  ''can  you  live  without  your 
mother?  Can  you  live  without  Phihas,  Charles,  and 
Philomene?" 

"  Oh  no !  my  dear  mother,  I  want  to  die  too." 

Expostulation  was  out  of  the  question  when  such  de- 
sjDair  had  set  in.  All  we  could  do  was  to  make  them  as 
comfortable  as  possible. 

The  next  morning  I  found  Charles  had  died  at  day- 
light. Philomene  was  in  a  stupor,  life  flickering  away 
slowly ;  while  Euphemie  had  thrown  up  black  vomit  in 
the  night,  accompanied  with  great  hemorrhage  from  the 
gums  and  nose.  Madam  C,  the  mother,  had  not  risen. 
I  drew  her  musquito-bar,  which  attracted  her  attention 
toward  me.  I  at  once  saw  that  the  disease  she  courted 
was  strongly  fixed  in  her.  Her  eyes  were  infected,  her 
skin  hot  and  dry,  with  a  quick  but  feeble  pulse.  She 
was  passive  as  a  child  in  our  hands,  but  frequently 
shook  her  head  as  we  administered  drinks,  or  applied 
cups  to  her,  as  much  as  to  say  all  your  efforts  are  vain, 
for  I  will  die.  As  the  servants  wrapj)ed  the  sheet  around 
the  corpse  of  Euphemie,  she  looked  intently  upon  them. 
When  they  passed  her,  she  entreated  a  kiss.  The  last 
pent-up  tear  was  not  proof  against  this.  The  attendants 
almost  dropped  their  charge  as  they  were  lowering  it, 
with  the  face  uncovered,  to  receive  a  mother's  sad,  part- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  183 

ing  kiss.  She  had  partially  raised  herself,  and  when  the 
corpse  was  taken  away,  she  exclaimed,  "Now,  my  God, 
permit  me  to  follow  my  children."  Extreme  unction 
was  administered  to  her.  She  lay  resigned,  calm,  and 
asked  for  nothing.  I  asked  if  she  had  no  commission 
for  me  to  perform,  no  letter  to  write.  She  searched  for 
her  keys,  handed  them  to  me  without  saying  a  word, 
took  my  hand  in  hers,  and,  gently  pressing  it  to  her  lips, 
whispered  a  few  words  I  did  not  catch.  The  next  day 
she  followed  her  children. 

After  the  epidemic  had  ceased,  I  visited  the  rooms 
they  had  occupied.  Their  bedding  and  clothing  were 
delivered  to  the  landlady  for  the  rent  due  to  her.  The 
trunk  with  books,  and  tin  box  of  papers,  were  put  away 
until  sent  for  by  their  relations  in  Metz.  I  saw  by  the 
letters  of  the  bishop  of  that  town  to  them,  and  by  other 
letters,  that  the  family  was  one  of  distinction,  and  that 
they  were  in  easy  circumstances  during  the  lifetime  of 
their  father.  Certificates  of  his  professional  ability  from 
the  Minister  of  Education,  as  well  as  printed  diplomas, 
and  appointments  to  high  station  in  the  educationary  de- 
partment, were  scattered  through  the  papers.  The  few 
books  they  had  were  of  the  purest  morality,  and  in- 
scribed with  the  names  of  one  or  other  of  the  family. 
Four  or  &Ye  weeks  after  their  death,  I  was  told  by  a 
lodger  in  the  house  they  occupied,  a  gentleman  called  to 
pay  them  1000  francs,  which  had  been  remitted  to  him 
for  their  relief. 

On  the  third  day  from  the  opening  of  the  infirmary 
the  number  of  admissions  reached  sixty -nine;  on  the 
19th,  ninety-three;  and  to  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  Au- 
gust, only  one  week,  we  had  under  treatment  160  pa- 
tients, of  which  forty-six  died  and  forty  were  discharged. 
A  number  of  the  latter  insisted  upon  leaving  the  infirm- 
ary as  soon  as  the  nourishment  which  they  had  taken 
during  convalescence  strengthened  them  suf&ciently  to 


184  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN". 

walk.  Many  paid  with  their  lives  for  their  too  great 
haste.  To  each  we  gave  an  amount  sufficient  to  pay 
two  weeks'  board,  or  an  order  on  a  boarding-house.  A 
httle  later  we  sent  the  convalescents  from  all  our  infirm- 
aries to  a  well-suggested  establishment,  under  the  charge 
of  two  of  our  members,  called  the  ^'Convalescent  Infirm- 
ary.^'' The  building  used  for  this  purpose  was  the  pres- 
ent lodge-rooms  of  the  Polar  Star  Order,  which  fraternity 
charitably  gave  us  the  use  of  it  free.  It  stands  in  the 
middle  of  a  large  lot  of  ground,  surrounded  by  shrub- 
hQTj.  The  rooms  were  lofty  and  well  ventilated.  The 
basement  was  appropriated  to  males,  the  first  floor  to  fe- 
males. Here  they  were  treated  with  wholesome  and 
strengthening  food,  watched  in  their  exercise,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  week  or  ten  days  were  able  to  resume  their 
occupations.  Many  left  in  better  health  than  they  had 
enjoyed  for  years  before.  It  is  such  an  institution  as  is 
wanted  in  all  large  cities,  particularly  during  epidemics, 
as  the  hosjDitals  do  not  count  upon  more  than  just  put- 
ting a  patient  upon  his  legs,  then  to  give  j)lace  for  anoth- 
er. It  is  only  one  half  the  danger  overcome  to  snatch 
from  death ;  security  against  a  relapse,  and  a  provision 
for  sustenance,  should  be  considered. 

Included  among  the  admissions  to  date  were  eleven 
orphan  children,  most  of  them  of  too  tender  years  to 
communicate  their  own  name  or  age.  They  had  been 
left  by  citizens  as  the  offspring  of  such  as  had  died  of 
the  fever  in  their  neighborhoods,  or  humanely  picked  up 
in  the  streets.  They  were  all  chubby,  healthy  infants, 
without  any  peculiarity  in  their  garments  or  marked 
physiognomy  to  trace  their  nationality.  For  these  we 
found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  nurses,  as  many  women 
were  left  childless  by  the  epidemic,  and  sought  this  ojd- 
portunity  of  relief  A  room  was  set  apart  exclusively 
for  these  youngsters.  It  was  counted  as  a  relaxation 
from  severer  duties  by  the  other  female  nurses  to  amuse 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN,  185 

themselves  in  this  room.  After  several  days  many  of 
the  children  showed  symptoms  of  sickness.  It  was  pro- 
posed that  they  should  be  all  baptized.  As  nearly  all 
of  the  destitute  poor  in  our  midst  are  of  foreign  birth, 
and  Catholic,  it  was  not  amiss  to  baptize  them  in  the 
rites  of  that  Church.  An  entertainment  of  cakes  and 
innocent  confections  for  the  oldest  was  therefore  obtain- 
ed, they  were  clothed  in  their  best,  and  the  ceremony 
performed  by  Father  L.  They  were  named  after  sever- 
al of  the  donors  to  our  fund,  each  of  the  children  hav- 
ing the  surname  of  Howard.  The  half  hour  thus  pass- 
ed that  morning,  and  the  scenes  that  transpired,  are 
treasured  as  saintly  relics  by  all  who  attended.  Com- 
passion for  the  motherless,  and  joy  upon  seeing  them  so 
happy  with  each  other,  amusing  themselves  with  noisy 
glee,  were  in  strange  contrast  with  scenes  transpiring  in 
adjoining  apartments.  One  of  them,  who  entered  later 
— a  lad  who  gave  his  name  as  Billy — was  a  source  of  con- 
stant entertainment  to  the  nurses,  as  well  as  amusement 
to  the  convalescent.  He  was  the  pet  of  the  infirmary, 
but  the  most  unpromising  of  all  the  children.  A  neg- 
lected sore  on  the  leg  had  eaten  to  the  bone,  and  pro- 
duced lameness.  It  was  in  its  nature  scorbutic,  and  re- 
quired patient  care,  spare  diet,  and  denial  of  every  thing 
stimulating.  Billy,  however,  thought  he  was  the  best 
judge  of  the  treatment  for  himself,  and,  whether  from  in- 
herent love  of  the  ardent,  or  in  having  shared  the  bottle 
of  his  parents,  he  acquired  such  a  liking  for  the  wine 
sangarees  and  brandy  toddies  surreptitiously  taken  from 
the  tables  of  the  patients,  that  his  demand  was  constant- 
ly for  them.  The  physician  of  the  hospital,  noticing  that 
Billy  became  stronger  from  indulgence,  with  increased 
appetite,  and  that  when  it  was  restrained  he  became  en- 
feebled, put  him  on  a  weak  allowance  of  brandy  toddy. 
He  was  ordered  to  be  watched,  and  kept  from  farther  in- 
dulgence.    As  he  made  his  usual  sly  walks  among  the 


186  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

patients,  the  nurses  amused  themselves  by  twitting  him 
mth  the  question  of  "What  will  you  have,  Billy?"  in 
order  to  obtain  from  him  the  few  words  he  spoke,  and 
then  so  quaintly,  in  a  high  key,  of  "a  little  bran — dy 
tod — dy."  He  remained  in  the  infirmary  until  it  was 
closed,  and  became  entirely  re-estabhshed  in  health. 
With  other  children  he  was  then  sent  to  the  orphan  asy- 
lum, where,  six  months  after,  when  I  saw  him,  he  had 
lost  the  desire  for  his  favorite  beverage  from  being  kept 
from  its  temptation. 

In  ten  days  after  this  christening  our  joys  were  turn- 
ed to  wormwood  as  seven  of  these  infants  dropped  off 
one  by  one.  This  was  in  the  most  fatal  week  of  the  epi- 
demic, and  characterized  by  sudden  and  extreme  changes 
of  temperature.  A  girl  and  boy,  presumed  to  be  of 
Spanish  descent  from  their  swarthy  complexion,  were 
adopted  by  a  wealthy  lady  of  the  third  district.  The  re- 
mainder, and  all  others  afterward  sent  to  us,  were  con- 
veyed to  the  asylums  then  instituted  by  the  Howard 
Association  and  the  Board  of  Health  for  the  reception 
of  orphans  during  the  epidemic. 

After  having  visited  my  outside  patients  on  the  night 
of  the  20th,  and  left  all  quiet  at  the  infirmary,  after  mid- 
night I  started  in  a  cab  with  a  friend  to  the  lake  to 
breathe  a  fresher  air.  The  moon  threw  a  melancholy 
light  over  the  city.  Our  cab  alone  disturbed  the  quiet 
of  the  night.  Even  the  canine  species,  noted  in  the  sub- 
urbs for  their  watchful  noise,  were  silent ;  nor  was  that 
howl  heard  from  them  which  superstition  interprets  as  a 
prophetic  vision  of  a  coming  death.  Perhaps  they  were 
affected  by  the  malaria,  as  were  cattle  and  poultry,  wher- 
ever the  fever  appeared.  In  the  suburbs  and  in  the 
country,  the  poultry,  horses,  and  mules  fell  dead  in  the 
fields.  As  we  passed  the  cemeteries,  we  saw  cofS.ns  piled 
up  beside  the  gate  and  in  the  walks,  and  laborers  at 
work  digging  trenches  in  preparation  for  the  morrow's 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  187 

dead.  "We  did  not  stop.  A  fog,  wMcIl  hung  over  the 
moss-enveloped  oaks,  prevented  the  egress  of  the  dense 
and  putrid  exhalations.  The  atmosphere  was  nauseat- 
ing to  a  degree  that  I  have  never  noticed  in  a  sick-room. 
We  hastened  our  speed  to  get  beyond  its  influence. 
When  we  had  refreshed  ourselves  with  the  purer  at- 
mosphere of  a  north  wind  that  just  rippled  the  lake,  we 
were  still  more  impressed  with  the  stifling  pestilential 
odors  on  our  return. 


CHAPTEB  XIY. 

The  deaf  and  dumb  Printer. 

At  home  I  found  an  urgent  request  to  call  at  No.  — 
St.  Peter  Street,  to  see  a  deaf  and  dumb  man,  just  at- 
tacked. Having  detained  my  cab,  I  drove  there,  and 
seeing  it  a  hopeful  case,  I  drove  to  the  infirmary  to  bring 

with  me  Dr. ,  who  told  me  he  intended  to  remain 

there  to  watch  the  result  of  a  particular  treatment  for 
black  vomit.  The  patient  occupied  a  little  room  in  the 
attic,  and  was  lying  upon  a  cot  with  his  back  toward  us. 

Dr. touched  his  shoulder.     The  patient  reached  to 

a  slate  that  was  suspended  to  the  wall,  and  wrote,  in 

French,  "Who  are  you?"     ''Dr. ,  of  the  Howard 

Association,"  was  the  written  reply.  Upon  reading  this 
he  lowered  the  slate  upon  his  breast,  and  after  looking 
at  us  for  a  few  seconds  intently,  tears  of  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment filled  his  eyes.   As  he  extended  one  hand 

to  Dr. ,  with  the  other  he  designated  the  pains  in  his 

limbs.  A  prescription  was  immediately  written.  Being 
too  late  to  procure  a  nurse,  I  determined  to  remain  to 
administer  to  his  wants.  On  my  return  with  the  medi- 
cine I  found  him  sitting  up  in  bed.  If  expansion  of 
brain  and  deep-traced  lines  on  the  brow  are  indicative 


188  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARIT.AN". 

of  intellect,  lie  had  no  common  share.  "When  I  had 
mixed  the  potion,  he  desired  to  know  the  ingredients. 
When  informed  of  its  being  quinine,  he  signified  by  ges- 
ture that  he  had  not  much  faith  in  it,  but  drank  it,  and 
turned  over  on  his  side.  On  scanning  the  room  by  the 
dim  candlelight,  I  was  struck  with  the  appearance  given 
to  it  by  the  numerous  colored  pictures  of  historical  sub- 
jects that  were  tacked  on  the  walls  nearly  to  the  ceil- 
ing. On  the  table  were  several  volumes  of  miscellane- 
ous hterature  and  a  Latin  breviary.  Hot  water  for  a 
bath  was  brought  in  after  half  an  hour's  delay,  when  he 
was  again  aroused.  When  he  recognized  me  making 
preparations  with  the  servant  to  give  him  the  bath,  he 
beckoned  me  to  him,  and  after  written  questions,  being 
informed  of  the  duty  that  devolved  on  us,  he  was  ful- 
some in  his  expressions  of  gratitude.  At  daylight  his 
fever  had  abated,  and  the  most  hopeful  anticipations 
were  entertained  of  his  recovery.  The  proprietress  of 
the  rooms  promised  to  see  to  his  wants  during  my  ab- 
sence of  a  few  hours.  On  my  return  I  found  a  woman 
and  two  men  sitting  round  his  bed,  talking  loud  to  each 
other  during  intervals  of  his  written  responses  to  them. 
They  had  been  thus  occupied  for  an  hour.  Ko  wonder 
that  his  ej^es  were  strongly  injected  and  his  pulse  fever- 
ish, for  they  had  been  entertaining  him,  as  I  saw  by  the 
slate,  with  exaggerated  accounts  of  the  epidemic,  and 
enumeration  of  friends  deceased.  Without  ceremony,  I 
took  the  nearest  one  by  the  shoulder,  and  told  him  to 
leave  the  room.  He  showed  belligerence,  until  I  quiet- 
ly informed  him  that  I  acted  under  extraordinary  au- 
thority, and  that  I  had  privilege  to  use  force  upon  any 
interference  with  my  patients.  They  thought  they  had 
been  doing  a  kindness  to  the  patient,  and  muttered  as 
they  went  down  stairs  something  of  the  "  strange  coun- 
try they  were  in."  My  patient,  who  witnessed  all  this, 
expressed  his  great  gratification  at  my  conduct,  and 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  189 

wrote  that  he  could  make  nothing  out  of  their  langhing 
and  talking  but  indifference  to  his  fate ;  that  they  an- 
noyed him  exceedingly.  He  knew  so  little  of  them  that 
he  did  not  remember  their  names. 

There  is  a  prurient  curiosity  which  infects  some  peo- 
ple that  is  as  dif&cult  to  be  accounted  for  as  any  idiosyn- 
cracy,  and  which  no  censure  or  ridicule  can  shame.  It 
exhibits  itself  in  gloating  the  eye  on  corpses,  and  linger- 
ing about  the  sick-bed,  to-  witness  the  agony  of  the  pa- 
tient, or  console  him  by  preaching  resignation  and  pre- 
paring him  for  the  worst.  With  those  of  better  feelings 
it  is  mistaken  for  sympathy,  but  not  a  particle  of  such 
virtue  exists  in  it.  So  long  as  it  is  exercised  as  a  pas- 
time, and  is  not  offensive  to  mourning  friends  or  rela- 
tives in  the  one  instance,  or  injurious  to  the  sick  in  the 
other,  it  is  a  creditable  manifestation.  There  is  some- 
thing forbidding  in  the  appearance  of  a  corpse  even  of 
a  relative ;  but  when  it  is  that  of  a  stranger,  the  sight  of 
it,  in  most  people,  calls  up  the  ejaculation  of  a  pah! 
This  contemptible  curiosity  is  akin  to  the  character  of 
the  gadabout  who  peers  into  your  market-basket,  and 
gossips  on  your  domestic  troubles  or  business  difficul- 
ties. Whenever  I  have  discovered  such  in  a  sick-room, 
I  have  no  patience  with  them ;  their  presence  is  ever  a 
mortal  injury  to  the  fevered  sick.  There  is  another 
class,  who  enter  the  sick-room  with  the  best  of  motives 
and  intentions,  but  who  have  a  natural  aversion  to  its 
atmosphere,  and  are  permitted  to  sit  up  with  their  friend 
during  the  night.  When  you  can  say  nothing  to  pro- 
mote the  cheerfulness  of  the  patient,  or  raise  his  hopes 
of  convalescence,  you  are  doing  him  a  charity  to  keep 
away.  When  you  are  not  practically  serviceable,  your 
air  of  sympathy  only  makes  every  thing  more  lugubri- 
ous. ''  Save  me  from  my  friends"  is  an  apophthegm 
better  applied  in  this  connection  than  in  any  other. 

Upon  reading  the  different  questions  and  remarks 


190  DIABY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

written  by  these  intruders  to  my  patient's  room,  I  found 
reference  made  to  the  great  mortality  in  the  city,  and 
requests  that,  as  life  was  very  uncertain,  bequests  or  last 
words,  if  he  had  any,  had  better  be  made  at  once.  They 
actually  placed  him  in  fascinating  contemplation  of 
death  when  he  was  most  desirous  of  casting  off  thoughts 
of  it  by  hopeful  prospects.  The  effects  upon  him  of 
such  reflections  were  to  make  him  despond,  and  to  be 
stubborn  in  the  belief  that  he  could  not  survive  the  fe- 
ver. Thousands  have  died  from  no  other  cause  than 
this.  When  the  sweet  hope  of  convalescence  is  banish- 
ed from  the  pillow,  by  his  resignation  the  patient  invites 
dissolution. 

Dr. came  in  while  I  was  there.     He  saw  that 

something  had  gone  wrong,  and  inquired  particulars. 
He  wrote,  "  You  must  keep  your  mind  quiet ;  you  will 
not  get  well  if  you  think  you  will  not.  I  will  leave  you 
a  potion  to  give  you  repose."  In  reply  he  wrote,  "  I 
have  changed  my  mind  with  my  hopes  ;  I  now  wish  to 
die.  I  have  suffered  in  this  sickness  a  hundred  deaths 
— veniat  mors^ 

''  Here  is  a  stubborn  fellow,"  exclaimed  Dr. .    He 

wrote  on  the  slate,  "  You  shall  live,  and  there  is  every 
hope  of  early  convalescence ;  so  do  not  torment  your- 
self farther."  In  a  few  minutes  the  potion  was  brought 
in.  The  doctor  handed  it  to  him  in  a  glass.  He  struck 
his  head  with  his  hand  several  times  in  support  of  his 
determination  to  take  no  more  medicine;  then,  seizing 
the  slatCj  wrote,  "  My  brother,  a  priest,  who  has  been 
written  for,  wiU  arrive  to-day  to  perform  the  last  rites 
over  me.  He  will  thank  you  for  your  noble  charity 
toward  me.  My  last  prayer  will  be  for  your  salvation, 
my  friends."  His  frequent  sighs,  or  long  breathings, 
occasionally  met  with  in  patients  treated  with  quinine, 
were  unfavorable  prognostics.  As  he  did  not  court 
communion  with  any  of  us  we  left  him,  with  directions 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  191 

for  farther  treatment.  On  that  night  he  became  deliri- 
ons,  and  had  ejected  black  vomit.  He  refused  now  any 
thing  but  ice,  which  was  crushed  between  his  teeth  and 
swallowed  as  fast  as  put  in.  At  midnight  he  recovered 
his  senses.  I  had  been  absent  on  other  visits,  and,  upon 
making  my  appearance,  he  took  his  slate  and  wrote,  with 
tremulous  hand,  in  large  letters,  ''I  have  been  waiting 
for  you.  Be  patient  with  me."  On  my  writing  '^  Go 
on,"  he  wrote  as  follows,  as  near  as  a  good  memory  and 
ability  of  translating  permit  me  to  give  it :  ''As  there  is 
but  one  Grod,  so  there  is  but  one  salvation,  and  that  is 
through  the  Eedeemer.  Would  you  die  happy,  as  I  do 
now,  learn  to  contemplate  futurity  through  Him,  and  its 
value  will  be  so  enhanced  to  you  that  the  waters  of  sep- 
aration will  bear  you  kindly  to  your  wished-for  home. 
I  am  your  friend." 

In  the  morning  I  was  stopped  on  the  stairway  with 
the  announcement  of  his  death.  On  entering  the  room 
to  make  arrangements  for  his  interment,  I  attracted  the 
notice  of  a  priest  who  was  kneeling  by  the  bedside  weep- 
ing. Seeing  that  he  was  absorbed  in  prayer,  and  did  not 
recall  me  when  leaving  the  room  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward, I  concluded  my  farther  services  were  dispensed 
with.  In  the  next  room  the  proprietress  handed  me  the 
slate,  on  which  he  had  written,  almost  illegibly,  scraps 
of  the  Psalms  and  Liturgy  in  the  Latin  language.  He 
was  a  printer  by  profession,  and,  I  was  told,  highly  edu- 
cated ;  of  an  amiable  and  sociable  disposition,  ever  en- 
tertaining his  company  with  sententious  remarks  which 
evinced  depth  of  learning  and  acuteness  of  observation. 


192  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAK. 


CHAPTEE  XY. 

Nurses  on  a  Frolic. — Volunteer  Nurses. — Desultory  Remarks. — Sisters 
of  Charity. — Nurses  repent. — Exposure  of  Thefts. — The  Barber.—' 
Fire ! — Effect  of  a  wrong  Prescription  on  two  Patients. 

Seven  days  had  elapsed.  The  infirmary  had  now  its 
complement  of  patients.  From  fifteen  to  twenty -five 
were  received  daily,  taking  the  place  of  the  discharged 
or  dead.  The  nurses  were  beginning  to  show  careless- 
ness in  their  duties,  and  required  constant  supervision. 
They  were  allowed  rations  of  wine  or  spirits,  but  they 
contrived  to  get  more,  from  the  facility  of  access  to  the 
pantry,  or  by  appropriating  such  stimulants  as  were  in- 
tended for  the  patients.  It  was  a  regular  thing,  by  mid- 
night, to  have  five  or  six  patients  in  extremis^  who  were 
restless  and  noisy,  and  were  removed  to  the  dying-room. 
As  these  had  stimulants  ad  libitum^  it  was  no  difficult 
matter  for  the  nurses  so  disposed  to  be  liberal  toward 
themselves.  On  the  night  of  the  27th  the  matron  had 
retired  at  her  usual  hour,  after  having  given  her  direc- 
tions and  placed  the  watches.  The  doors  of  the  infirm- 
ary were  also  closed,  the  lights  about  the  house  reduced, 
and  jDroper  care  taken  in  the  adjustment  of  the  windows 
against  an  inlet  of  night  air.  An  associate  and  myself 
being  out  late  on  visits,  I  proposed  to  him  to  accompany 
me,  and  see  how  things  worked  at  the  infirmary  after 
midnight.  TVe  drove  to  the  door,  and,  after  repeated 
raps,  brought  the  matron  to  the  window.  She  admitted 
us  and  retired.  On  entering  the  wards,  our  surprise  was 
great  to  hear  calls  made  upon  us  in  every  direction  for 
ice-water,  drinks,  etc.,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  foul 
offensiveness  of  neglected  matter  in  the  room  was  sicken- 
ing in  the  extreme.     With  the  exception  of  an  old  col- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  193 

ored  nurse,  who  had  been  sent  gratis  to  ns  by  a  Creole 
lady,  none  others  were  to  be  seen.  On  searching,  we  dis- 
covered two  male  nurses  snoring  beside  the  dead  and 
dying  in  the  room  appointed  to  them,  and  empty  bottles 
strewed  on  the  floor.  Several  others  were  asleep  on  the 
vacated  cots,  while  the  females  were  asleep  in  their 
rooms.  We  aroused  them  all,  but  they  were  of  no  serv- 
ice. The  intoxication  from  a  three-gallon  demijohn  of 
brandy  required  a  longer  time  to  be  dissipated.  It  was 
so  general  that  I  could  not  but  think  it  habitual,  and 
this  time  preconcerted.  My  associate  and  I,  with  the 
matron,  remained  up  the  remainder  of  the  night  doing 
their  duty.  A  few  days  before  this  I  had  abolished  the 
system  at  first  adopted  of  alternate  four  hours'  watching 
at  night  for  one  of  service  the  whole  night,  allowing  all 
to  sleep  during  the  day  as  much  as  they  pleased.  This 
was  done  because  I  was  daily  offered  the  services  of  fe- 
male nurses  gratis.  Ladies  of  mature  age,  and  young 
ladies,  in  many  instances,  of  respectable  Creole  families, 
with  quadroons  in  easy  circumstances,  presented  them- 
selves all  of  the  day,  begging  permission  to  nurse  the 
sick.  I  found  the  number  too  great  to  admit  all.  Some 
came  at  the  first  visits  of  the  physicians,  and  made  them- 
selves useful  in  carrying  out  prescriptions  and  doing 
menial  service  to  the  sick.  After  a  stay  of  two  or  three 
hours  they  would  leave,  and  be  replaced  by  others. 
Some  came  daily,  others  at  intervals  of  a  few  days,  as 
if  the  duties  were  repugnant,  and  they  were  doing  them 
from  a  sense  of  charity  or  for  a  penance.  There  were 
those  with  strong  will  and  of  tender  frames,  whose  hearts 
were  ready  to  burst  with  pity  and  sympathy  for  their 
suffering  fellow-creatures,  who  bravely  stood  the  ordeal 
for  an  hour  or  less,  and  might  be  seen  hurrying  to  gain 
the  door  with  countenances  of  livid  hue,  from  being 
placed  in  the  midst  of  so  much  despair,  despondency, 
and  suffering.     Nearly  all,  upon  taking  off  their  bon- 

I 


194  DIARY  OF  A  SAXARITAi^. 

nets,  threw  a  veil  over  the  head,  which  partly  or  entire- 
ly concealed  the  face.  Whether  this  was  in  imitation 
of  the  first  comers  or  a  conventional  type  of  volunteers 
to  the  sick,  I  could  not  learn.  I  rarely  saw  their  faces. 
They  passed  me  without  a  word  or  a  look  of  recognition, 
for  they  seemed  desirous  to  destroy  all  identity  with 
those  *'  acts  of  goodness  which  themselves  requite." 

Allowing  that  a  controlling  power  is  over  us  which 
necessitates  the  will  and  bends  us  to  His  views,  and  that 
every  character  is  the  necessary  consequence  of  its  phys- 
ical organization,  it  is  no  less  beautiful  to  dwell  upon 
the  extreme  of  self-denial  exhibited  in  females  who  dan- 
gerously expose  their  health  by  ministrations  to  the  sick, 
in  contrast  to  the  cold  mediocrity  of  passion  and  feehng 
which  distinguishes  the  mass.  Who  is  not  proud  of  hu- 
man nature,  and  of  the  perfection  it  is  susceptible  of,  after 
having  witnessed  and  watched  the  devotions  and  priva- 
tions for  others'  good  of  the  "  Sisters  of  Charity,"  or  "Ze-s 
dames  de  la  Providence  V  The  latter  body  is  composed 
of  ladies  of  wealth  and  respectabihty,  who  may  be  seen 
in  winter  the  foremost  and  gayest  of  our  fashionable 
soirees  ;  in  summer,  or  during  epidemics,  untiring  in  good 
deeds  by  day  and  night.  In  bodies  of  three  or  four,  they 
perambulate  the  streets  from  house  to  house ;  they  no- 
tice absence  of  comforts  which  the  sterner  sex  are  re- 
gardless of,  and  by  their  presence  impart  a  sustaming  joy 
and  hope  to  the  destitute  of  their  own  sex. 

Chief  above  all,  though,  do  I  record  the  praise  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity.  I  have  been  long  a  witness  to  their 
modest  yet  active  charity.  I  have  seen  the  fruits  of 
their  watchings,  and  wondered  at  the  charm  which  sprung 
from  their  ministering.  In  no  place  can  they  reap  such 
harvest  of  good  as  New  Orleans,  the  consciousnes  of  do- 
ing which  is  their  sweet  reward  during  their  devoted 
pilgrimage  on  earth.  They  do  good  by  stealth.  The 
light  of  publicity  is  no  stimulant  to  them,  for  virtue  like 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  195 

theirs  rather  shuns  the  more  the  more  observed  it  is. 
They  triumph  over  the  flesh,  and  live  outside  the  body, 
as  we  do  in  dreams.  They  stand  on  the  pedestal  of  the 
Yestal  virgins  of  old,  who  had  charge  of  the  ever-living 
fire,  which  was  the  principle  of  all  things  and  the  em- 
blem of  purity.  Fanaticism,  which  would  mar  a  divin- 
ity not  cast  in  its  own  mould,  points  to  them  sneeringly 
as  instruments  of  a  selfish  sectarianism — as  an  institu- 
tion maintained  to  conceal  glaring  imperfections,  and  to 
make  proselytes  to  their  religion.  Be  they  so ;  the  poor, 
disconsolate,  miserable,  or  expiring  mortal  cares  not  to 
know  or  discover  their  seeming ;  he  feels  the  solace  from 
the  presence  of  those  who  have  no  trumpeter  in  this 
world  except  the  meek  and  lowly,  whose  voices  are  not 
heard,  like  his  own,  beyond  the  hovel  or  the  hospital. 
We  should  be  above  the  ungenerous  reflections  that  are 
ingrafted  on  young  hearts  against  this  order  of  charity. 
With  the  admission  that  they  do  much  good,  let  us  of  a 
different  sect  institute  a  like  order  for  the  same  objects 
with  the  same  purpose  {nosce  ah  hostibus).  The  world 
would  then  be  better;  religion  will  be  loved  for  this 
great  feature,  while  each  sect  will  find  it  the  brightest 
jewel  in  its  coronet  of  faith  and  profession.  The  relig- 
ion of  the  Sisters,  though,  should  be  no  prejudice  to  their 
acts.  Were  they  Hindoos,  their  mission  would  be  no 
less  divine,  their  self-denial  no  less  admirable.  There 
are  many  Florence  Nightingales  in  the  dissenting  relig- 
ions who  only  wait  the  door  of  opportunity  to  be  opened 
by  authority  of  their  custos  animarum  to  associate  to- 
gether and  rival  these  privileged  few  in  the  good  they 
dispense  throughout  the  world.  Charity  is  the  main- 
stay of  religion ;  without  a  prominent  exercise  of  it,  all 
faith  is  emptiness.  It  is  also  the  foundation  of  justice, 
epitomized  in  the  words,  "Do  unto  others  as  you  would 
they  should  do  unto  you."  Begin  the  good  work  at 
once.     The  institution  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  is  the 


196  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

triumjDli  of  the  Catholic  rehgion.  It  is  practical.  It  has 
in  it  nothing  of  the  dreamings  or  enthusiasm  for  African 
or  heathen  regeneration,  the  fruits  of  which  are  not  visi- 
ble. What  is  sympathy  with  the  heathen  to  doing  good 
to  a  neighbor  spiritually  or  physically?  I  have  seen 
the  Sisters  of  Charity  in  the  silent  rounds  of  duty,  in  the 
infirmaries,  hospitals,  and  rickety  tenements  of  the  poor, 
comforting  their  own  sex  of  all  religions,  castes,  and 
conditions,  fearless  of  contamination,  dressing  loathsome 
wounds,  and  inhaling  the  most  nauseating  odors.  Sin- 
ner as  I  am,  I  hold  them  too  holy  and  sacred  to  disturb 
them  by  any  remarks  from  me.  They  knew  my  mis- 
sion, I  reverenced  theirs ;  and  never  has  a  word  pass- 
ed between  us  that  was  not  in  reference  to  a  duty  to  be 
performed.  In  fact,  the  rules  of  their  order  enjoin  a  si- 
lent tongue  to  all.  The  world  may  be  bad  in  the  main, 
but  a  redeeming  feature  is  this  institution,  which  is  as 
a  golden  connecting  link  between  heaven  and  earth. 
Their  hearts  are  mediums  through  which  angels  visit 
humanity,  and  humanity  pleads  to  God.  Theirs  is  the 
seed  which,  planted  here,  blooms  in  heaven;  they  are 
the  purest  on  earth ; 

"  Their  every  day  is  Sabbath ;  only  free 
From  hours  of  prayer  for  hoiirs  of  charity." 

The  morning  following  the  intoxication  of  the  nurses, 
I  summoned  all  of  them  at  the  of&ce  for  the  purpose  of 
discharging  and  paying  them  off.  Several  were  repent- 
ant, and  begged  to  be  retained,  having,  they  said,  been 
misled  by  the  others.  The  remainder  made  an  excuse, 
which,  though  natural,  I  would  not  admit.  They  urged 
that  the  duties  of  attending  the  patients  through  sick- 
ness, to  carrying  the  corpse  to  the  dead-room,  was  so  sick- 
ening that  they  could  not  continue  without  an  extra  al- 
lowance of  stimulant.  I  sent  off  all  but  two :  one,  who 
had  been  the  most  useful,  to  whom  I  promised  an  addi- 
tional ration ;  and  the  other,  an  old  man,  as  an  act  of 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  197 

cliarity ;  "for,"  said  he,  "if  you  turn  me  out  from  here 
I  shall  starve."  There  is  nothing  like  a  dismission  or  a 
threat  of  dismission  to  find  out  the  past  conduct  of  a 
body  of  servants  or  employes.  The  guilty  ones  break 
the  enteinte  cordiale^  and  expose  the  faults  of  the  others 
so  soon  as  they  are  made  examples  of  All  kinds  of 
abuses  were  hinted  at  as  having  been  general.  In  this 
adventure,  as  in  all  others,  one  must  pay  for  experience. 
One  of  the  nurses  was  a  barber,  and  assisted  the  regular 
cupper  in  his  duties.  It  was  with  great  reluctance  I  dis- 
missed him.  He,  however,  expressed  no  desire  to  re- 
main. From  those  retained  I  afterward  learned  a  reason 
for  his  submission  with  quiet  grace.  As  previously  re- 
marked, our  patients  at  the  Globe  of  late  were  of  a  bet- 
ter class  than  those  who  were  earlier  admitted.  They 
were  single  men,  of  more  or  less  means,  who,  when  taken 
sick,  and  finding  it  impossible  to  obtain  proper  attend- 
ance at  their  lodgings,  gave  the  preference  to  the  Globe 
Infirmary.  Some,  having  money  in  sums  of  over  five 
dollars,  from  apprehension,  perhaps,  that  it  would  be  lost 
to  them  if  they  deposited  it  with  the  clerk,  kept  it  about 
their  persons.  The  barber,  who  had  before  served  in  a 
hospital,  was  quick  in  discovering  this  hidden  treasure. 
I  shall  not  convict  him  of  cruelty  in  his  duties  to  secure 
impunity  for  his  crime ;  but,  from  the  various  sums  of 
money  and  jewelry  he  was  said  to  purloin  from  the  pock- 
ets or  belts  of  the  patients,  there  is  room  for  suspicion 
that  he  was  indifferent  to  their  recovery.  The  location 
of  the  concealed  money  became  exposed  to  him  from  the 
anxiety  of  the  owner  to  watch  or  retain  it.  In  strippiog 
a  patient  to  be  habited  in  the  gown  of  the  infirmary,  his 
unwillingness  to  part  with  any  piece  of  his  clothing  gen- 
erally indicated  the  value  of  its  contents.  This  piece  of 
clothing  would  be  carefully  placed  under  the  mattress 
or  pillow  of  the  patient.  When  the  patient  became  de- 
lirious and  his  case  hopeless,  the  booty  would  be  secured 


198  DIAEY  OF  A  samaeita:n'. 

bj  the  attendant.  No  complaints  were  made  by  tliose 
who  recovered  of  being  robbed.  On  one  occasion,  a 
Frenchman,  well  dressed,  was  brought  by  several  of  his 
countrymen  to  the  infirmary.  He  denied  having  any 
thing  valuable  on  his  person.  He  died  two  days  after  ad- 
mission ;  and  upon  examination  of  a  pocket-book  which 
he  had  managed  to  conceal  from  every  one  and  to  place 
under  his  pillow,  we  found  in  it  $1^5.  Having  learned 
he  was  a  Protestant,  we  purchased  for  him  an  oven  in 
the  Girard  Street  Cemetery,  and  expended  the  remain- 
der in  the  cofBm  and  hearse.  His  friends  were  afterward 
advised  of  what  we  had  done. 

Many  patients  who  were  now  admitted  requested  to 
have  the  attendance  of  their  own  physician,  and  to  pay 
for  the  privilege  of  a  selected  place  in  the  wards.  When 
not  objected  to  by  the  regular-appointed  physician  to  the 
infirmary,  I  could  make  no  objection,  but  placed  them 
without  choice  in  the  numbered  cot. 

A  week  had  not  elapsed  since  the  discharge  of  the 
nurses  when  the  barber  was  brought  in,  suffering  under 
pernicious  fever.  He  had  had  the  yellow  fever,  and  was 
supposed  to  have  induced  this  present  attack  by  dissipa- 
tion. His  ill-gotten  treasure  had  proved  his  ruin.  He 
was  cognizant  of  nothing,  and  wild  and  unmanageable 
from  delirium.  The  same  process  which  he  had  intro- 
duced of  securing  such  patients  to  their  cot  was  exer- 
cised upon  him.  A  rope  was  passed  under  his  arms  and 
across  his  back,  the  ends  secured  under  the  cot ;  his  feet 
were  separately  tied  to  the  corners.  We  tried  all  in  our 
power  to  subdue  the  symptoms.  At  night  his  case  was 
hopeless.  On  my  return  at  eleven  o'clock  he  was  in- 
sensible, and  literally  burning  out.  I  had  left  him  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  was  making  arrangements  for  the  next 
day's  services,  when  suddenly  a  cry  of  "Fire !  fire !  fire !" 
startled  ms.  It  was  cried  in  the  methodical  cadence  of 
a  fireman.     Supposing  the  voice  to  emanate  from  the 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  199 

rear  of  tlie  building,  we  hurried  tliere,  and  as  quickly 
hurried  back  to  the  wards  to  meet  a  scene  that  beggars 
description.  The  moans  of  the  sick,  the  shrieks  of  the 
dying,  accompanied  with  the  sounds  of  tables  turned 
over  and  broken  crockery,  preceded  a  rustling  and  dis- 
order through  all  the  wards.  The  women,  who  had 
caught  the  alarm  from  the  male  patients  entering  their 
division,  jumped  from  their  beds,  and  en  masse  made  for 
the  head  of  the  stairway.  Had  we  not  by  main  force 
stemmed  this  mass  of  ghost-like  people,  clad  in  long 
white  gowns,  the  city  would  have  been  rife  the  next 
morning  with  horrible  reports  of  crazy  people  running 
the  streets  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  avoid  an  imag- 
inary evil.  After  we  had  somewhat  quieted  their  fears, 
some  clung  to  the  walls  for  support,  while  others  sunk 
on  the  floor  from  exhaustion.  All  was  now  confusion. 
Many  were  speechless  from  fright,  and  blunders  were 
necessarily  committed  in  placing  back  the  invalids  to 
their  proper  cots,  for  the  nurses  were  doubtful  of  the 
identity  of  many  of  them.  Such  as  we  found  lying  be- 
side the  cots  we  were  certain  of.  We  did  the  best  un- 
der the  circumstances,  until,  by  degrees,  the  patients  be- 
came sensible  enough  to  point  out  their  original  posi- 
tions. But  what  a  check  to  its  usefulness  did  the  in- 
firmary receive  that  night !  The  physicians,  on  the  next 
morning,  estimated  the  certain  fatality  from  this  accident 
to  over  ten  cases.  Many  of  these  had  been  convalescent. 
Upon  inquiring  the  cause,  we  were  informed  that  the 
cry  was  started  by  the  barber,  under  delirium.  At  the 
extreme  corner  from  him  a  patient  became  excited  by 
it,  and  suddenly  leaped  from  his  bed,  turning  over  his 
table  and  breaking  the  crockery  on  it.  The  rush  of 
nurses  to  the  spot  alarmed  the  sick,  who  in  their  turn 
halloed  for  help,  some  passing  the  nurses,  through  the 
canvas  division,  to  the  female  wards.  The  women,  con- 
firmed by  the  appearance  of  the  men  of  the  reality  of 


200  -     DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

the  danger,  now  made  their  des|)erate  effort  to  escape. 
The  cause  of  this  unfortunate  disturbance  died  that  night. 
A  day  or  two  afterward,  a  circumstance  grew  out  of 
this  confusion  which  was  food  for  comment  to  lookers- 
on.  It  appears  that  two  patients,  who  had  arisen  from 
their  cots,  had  returned  and  changed  places.  The  phy- 
sician attending  had  ordered  a  treatment  for  each,  ac- 
cording to  his  number  on  the  cot,  until  his  return  the 
next  morning.  One  was  turning  convalescent  from  nine 
days'  illness ;  the  other  had  been  ill  but  thirty -six  hours. 
The  condition  of  each  continued  to  improve,  and  it  was 
not  until  two  days  after  that  the  physician  discovered 
that  he  had  been  successful  under  an  error  by  accident- 
ally noticing  the  medicines  which  were  mixed  in  glasses 
on  the  table.  Both  finally  recovered.  It  was  a  ques- 
tion for  amusing  deliberation  at  the  time,  that,  had  any 
other  course  of  treatment  been  pursued  to  either,  would 
there  have  been  a  recovery  at  all  ? 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

The  Pole  and  his  Wife. — A  Case  of  Confidence. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  many  uses  we  were  put  to, 
and  of  the  singular  convenience  or  advantage  in  being 
sick,  I  have  extracted  from  my  dairy  the  following  mor- 
ceau. 

On  leaving  the  house  of  a  pay -patient  with  Dr. , 

who  was  also  engaged  by  our  association,  I  was  address- 
ed by  a  servant  by  name,  requesting  me  to  call  upon  a 
lady  opposite,  who  was  convalescent  of  fever,  but  fear- 
ful of  relapse.  Being  informed  that  she  had  been  visit- 
ed by  another  physician,  Dr. jumped  in  his  cab  and 

drove  off.  It  was  scarcely  seven  o'clock,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised, upon  entering  the  room,  to  find  the  numerous  ar- 
ticles in  it  all  orderly  arranged,  the  bed-clothes  smoothed, 


DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN.  201 

and  tlie  musquito-bar  drawn.  The  patient  was  a  bru- 
nette, of  Jewish  features,  pretty  withal,  and  delivered  her 
French  with  a  patois  accent.  She  complained  to  me  of 
having  been  deserted  by  her  nurse,  and  begged  that  I 
would  procure  another  for  her. 

When  I  glanced  my  eye  around  the  room  as  she  was 
speaking,  and  beheld  the  walls  hung  with  handsomely- 
'  framed  prints  and  two  crayon  portraits,  the  furniture  of 
costly  French  patterns,  the  several  tables  crowded  with 
articles  of  taste,  the  mantle-piece  with  a  bronze  clock, 
candelabras,  and  statuettes,  and  the  delicate  odor  of  gera- 
niums floating  in  the  atmosphere  from  an  opened  win- 
dow, I  fancied  myself  to  be  in  the  chamber  of  a  fashion- 
able milliner  or  a  fille  jyerdue.  AYondering  that,  with 
such  a  display  of  luxury,  she  should  seek  our  charity,  I 
remarked  to  her  that  we  confined  our  attentions  solely 
to  the  destitute  poor.  With  a  smile  at  my  ignorance, 
she  gave  me  very  decidedly  to  understand  that  she  had 
not  fallen  so  low,  but  contemplated  to  pay  for  the  nurse 
which  I  might  send  to  her.  She  at  the  same  time  in- 
timated that  my  visits  would  be  agreeable  until  her  fears 
were  quieted,  as  her  physician  would  not  call  unless  sent 
for,  and  she  would  like  me  to  say  how  she  progressed  in 
health  from  day  to  day. 

"And  bring  with  you,"  she  added,  in  a  lively  tone, 
"the  physician  I  see  visiting  with  you  my  opposite 
neighbor." 

"  Then,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  have  to  enroll  you  as  one 
of  our  patients,  and  take  your  age  and  place  of  nativ- 
ity." 

"  As  for  that,"  said  she,  "  it  is  nothing.  My  name  is 
;  aged ;  born  at ;  but  I  wish  you  distinct- 
ly to  understand  that  I  desire  no  relief  from  you,  or  to 
occupy  the  time  of  the  physician,  without  remuneration." 

I  did  not,  of  course,  take  any  more  notice  of  her  name 
and  nativity  than  to  remark  that  it  resembled  in  sound 

12 


202  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

that  of  a  countryman  of  liers  opposite,  where  she  had 
seen  me  visit. 

"You  are  right,  sir.  Now  sit  down  for  a  moment, 
and  I  will  tell  you  more." 

With  that  she  beckoned  to  the  servant,  who  brought 
her  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed  a  bowl  of  water,  into 
which  she  had  dashed  several  jets  of  a  perfume.  Her 
face  and  neck  being  well  sponged,  her  hair  thrown  back 
from  her  forehead  with  her  hands,  she  laid  herself  back, 
quite  refreshed,  upon  two  large  pillows,  which  had  been, 
in  the  mean  time,  beaten  and  turned  for  her.  "Now  for 
a  development,"  thought  I,  "in  keej^ing  with  many  that 
I  am  subjected  to." 

"  You  must  know,  sir,"  she  began,  "  that  the  Pole  op- 
posite is  my  husband.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  you  must 
be  a  partner  in  my  designs,  and  interest  yourself  for  the 
good  that  will  result  to  both.  I  am  not  so  sick  as  I  pre- 
tend to  be,  though  I  am  not  really  well.  I  must  confess 
to  you  that  my  pretended  illness,  and  desire  for  the  reg- 
ular attendance  of  yourself  and  the  physician,  is  to  gain 
a  point  in  which  you  will  sympathize  with  me.'  As  I 
have  said,  the  Pole  oj^posite  is  my  husband,  with  whom 
I  have  lived  on  confiding  and  affectionate  terms  until 
the  announcement  of  the  epidemic.  Then  he  became 
alarmed  and  querulous.  He  remained  home  the  great- 
er part  of  the  day,  and  seemed  to  delight  in  recapitulat- 
ing to  me  all  the  horrors  of  the  disease  which  he  had 
picked  up  at  the  cafes  or  the  corners.  The  consequence 
was,  the  constant  dread  of  the  thing  invited  itself  I 
took  the  fever.  When  the  physician  announced  the  fact 
to  him,  he  became  so  excited  and  tremulous  that  he  could 
not  sleep.  The  second  morning  after  my  illness  he  kept 
in  bed,  and  told  the  doctor  that  he  also  was  a  subject. 
The  doctor  laughed  at  him,  and  ordered  a  toddy  to  bring 
repose  to  him.  Thus  he  lay  one  day.  The  next  day  he 
could  not  be  persuaded  that  he  was  not  under  the  influ- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  203 

ence  of  tlie  epidemic,  and  asked  for,  but  did  not  obtain, 
the  prescription  for  cupping  and  for  medicines  ordered 
for  me.  I  tlionglit  Mm  really  sick ;  he  knew  I  was.  I 
broached  to  him  the  necessity  to  prepare  for  the  worst, 
and  suggested  that  we  each  make  a  will,  leaviug  the  oth- 
er the  effects.  He  has  always  been  jealous  of  me ;  and 
from  the  visits  of  several  who  had  courted  my  hand,  to 
inquire  of  my  health,  he  interpreted  much  to  my  preju- 
dice. When  I  still  farther  aroused  his  suspicions  by 
thus  anticipating  his  death — for  he  did  not  consider  mine 
— he  thought  there  was  a  conspiracy  to  end  him.  He 
would  not  trust  himself  to  my  keeping,  he  said,  and, 
with  an  excuse  to  his  friends  that  there  was  not  room  to 
accommodate  two,  he  was  removed  to  the  house  oppo- 
site. When  I  became  convalescent  my  solicitude  for 
him  made  me  very  uneasy,  the  more  so  when  I  learned 
that  your  physician  was  visiting  him  three  and  four 
times  a  day.  I  sent  over  my  servant  to  inquire  into  his 
condition.  For  some  time  she  reported  to  me  what  I 
supposed  to  be  true,  which  she  had  learned  from  a  wom- 
an who  was  attending  him,  who  did  not  know  that  the 
information  was  for  me.  When  she  found  this  out,  the 
servant  was  answered  indignantly  that  it  was  none  of 
her  business,  and  that  it  was  a  pretty  thing  for  a  wife  to 
pretend  to  an  interest  in  a  husband  she  had  thrust  out 
of  doors  sick.  Hearing  he  was  convalescent,  through 
another  servant  I  sent  to  him  broth  which  I  had  made 
for  him.  This  was  admitted  twice ;  then,  upon  suspicion, 
I  suppose,  of  the  source  from  whence  it  came,  it  was  aft- 
erward refused.  I  was  well  enough  the  other  day  to 
have  my  bed  moved  nearer  the  window,  whence  I  com- 
manded a  view  of  his  room.  I  saw  you  and  the  physi- 
cian enter,  and,  when  you  were  about  to  leave,  hold  a 
conversation  with  a  woman  at  the  door.  Now,  sir,  her 
presence  explains  many  things.  She  is  a  vile  character, 
who  pretended  much  love  for  him  before  I  married,  when 


204  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAX. 

she  was  only  attracted  by  his  money.  She  has  privately 
abnsed  me,  and  her  venom  has  reached  me  through  my 
husband.  She  is  the  cause  of  all  his  jealousy  of  me,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  she  has  continued  to  calumniate 
me  until  she  has  obtained  complete  control  of  him.  I 
saw  my  husband  sitting  at  the  window  yesterday.  Di- 
rectly he  saw  he  was  observed  by  me  he  drew  the  cur- 
tain, and  ever  since  has  been  invisible.  I  thought  of  an 
expedient  to  bring  him  back  to  me,  and  to  see  if  he  any 
longer  loved  me.  I  thought  that  I  would  feign  sick- 
ness ;  that  I  would  employ  you  as  physician,  and,  in  a 
day  or  so,  have  conveyed  to  him  the  intelligence  of  my 
dangerous  condition,  to  see  if  the  power  of  that  woman, 
who  flaunts  in  ill-gotten  goods,  is  as  strong  as  I  suspect. 
I  have  hopes  of  accomplishing  my  object,  for  he  has  a 
proper  heart  if  only  seasonably  touched.  I  am  a  seam- 
stress, and  can  make  my  own  living ;  he  is  a  jeweler, 
and  equally  independent  of  me." 

She  breathed  a  while.     I  found  the  whole  narrative 

funny,  and  only  wished  for  the  presence  of  Dr. to 

have  enjoyed  it  in  its  raciness  of  delivery.  I  told  her 
that  I  would  consult  with  him  on  her  novel  complaint, 
and  had  no  doubt  we  could  manage,  by  some  means  or 
other,  to  disperse  all  manner  of  misunderstandings.  She 
directed  the  servant  to  hand  me  a  glass  of  cordial  from  a 
handsomely-carved  buffet,  bidding  me  to  act  with  dis- 
cretion, so  to  deserve  her  lasting  gratitude. 

To  deserve  a  woman's  gratitude  or  to  receive  her  ac- 
knowledgments after  acting  as  her  tool  to  heal  the 
wounds  between  herself  and  lover  is  as  unlikely  as  ob- 
taining thanks  from  a  combative  married  pair  whom  you 
have  separated.  Kindness  like  this  is  more  frequently 
followed  by  a  complete  ignoring  of  the  rash  adventurer, 
as  the  last  one  wished  to  be  encountered  is  he  who  pre- 
sents himself  a  mocking  witness  of  another's  weakness. 
Indifferent,  though,  to  the  result,  so  far  as  we  were  con- 


BIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  205 

cerned,  the  doctor  and  I  set  our  heads  together  to  ac- 
complish her  wishes.  It  was  a  pleasant  episode  in  our 
melancholy  round  of  duties.  At  ten  in  the  morning  we 
dropped  in  on  the  jealous  Pole,  after  having  paid  two 
visits  to  his  wife.  Before  entering  we  had  fixed  upon 
no  certain  plan,  but  left  all  to  the  inspiration  of  the  mo- 
ment. 

''  Mr. ,"  said  the  doctor  on  entering,  ''  you  are 

getting  quite  well  now,  and  I  do  not  think  it  will  be 
necessary  to  visit  you  again.  Your  wife  here  can  safely 
assume  farther  responsibility  of  you.'' 

"  My  wife,  sir,  did  you  say  ?"  as  he  looked  inquiringly 
at  us. 

"Your  wife — is  she  not  such  whom  I  always  see  with 
you  here  ?  The  lady  opposite  tells  me  she  is,  and  I 
presume,  from  her  having  the  same  name  with  you,  that 
she  is  a  relation  or  connection  who  knows." 

"  The  lady  opposite?"  He  was  on  the  point  of  say- 
ing more,  but  checked  himself 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  lady  opposite,  who  has  been  confined  to 
her  bed  for  some  time,  and  is  now  dangerously  ill.  I 
hardly  think  she  would  have  told  me  an  untruth. ,  If 
she  is  wrong,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  intrude  upon 
your  private  affairs." 

"Do  you  say,  sir,  she  is  very  low?" 

"  I  have  my  greatest  fears  for  her,"  replied  the  doctor. 

Just  then  the  woman  in  question  entered — no  beauty, 
by-the-by — who,  after  some  whispering  between  herself 
and  the  Pole,  left  the  room. 

"  Doctor,"  said  the  Pole,  in  Dutch  gutturals,  "  I  am  a 
miserable  man.  That  lady  opposite  is  my  wife.  She 
drove  me  almost  mad.  She  drove  me  into  this  fever. 
With  all  that,  I  love  her.  I  am  willing  to  forgive  her. 
To  bring  her  to  her  senses,  and  make  her  repentant,  I 
invited  this  woman  to  stay  with  me  in  my  sickness.  I 
thought  by  doing  so,  as  she  was  jealous  of  her  before 


206  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAK. 

and  after  my  marriage,  that  it  would  bring  out  some 
demonstration  from  my  wife.  But  no!  not  once  lias 
my  wife  sent  to  know  if  I  was  sick ;  she  has,  though, 
abused  me  to  the  whole  neighborhood,  and  sent  me  mes- 
sages to  worry  out  my  life." 

The  mist  vanished.  We  assured  him  he  was  doing 
his  wife  a  great  injustice  and  laboring  under  a  mistake ; 
that  we  attended  her,  and  that  she  constantly  asked  after 
him ;  and  we  supposed  her  to  be  only  a  relative.  Also, 
that  we  knew,  in  several  instances,  that  things  had  been 
prepared  for  him  and  sent  by  her  servant.  The  Pole 
seemed  pleased  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  wrong,  and 
was  profuse  in  thanks  for  the  interest  we  took  in  him. 
He  begged  we  would  intercede  for  him,  and  placed  his 
happiness  in  our  hands. 

Before  noon  I  dropped  in  and  advised  his  wife  of  the 
progress  we  had  made.  Two  hours  after,  the  doctor  and 
I  again  entered  the  husband's  room,  where  we  found  his 
female  friend  sitting.  They  had  been  in  loud  conversa- 
tion, and  stopped  abruptly  when  they  saw  us.  She  had 
apparently  an  inkling  of  the  denouement  in  contempla- 
tion, and  looked  daggers  at  us,  but  used  not  even  a  sen- 
tentious arrow  from  the  quiver  of  her  Hps.  Now  for 
our  coup  de  main. 

"  Mr. ,  there  is  a  relation  of  yours  opposite,"  said 

the  doctor,  "  who  says  she  longs  to  see  you.  You  are 
strong  enough  to  cross  over  with  us.     Will  you  go  ?" 

The  Pole  arose  doggedly,  as  if  he  had  some  terrible 
forebodings  that  he  was  to  be  made  a  jest  of  He  thus 
wavered  in  resolution  as  we  approached  the  door.  Per- 
haps, thought  we,  the  woman  has  poisoned  him  anew  by 
inductions  in  respect  to  the  interest  we  took  in  his  wife. 
Be  it  what  it  might,  he  did  not  move  cheerfully,  but  as 
if  about  to  undergo  some  punishment.  An  infliction, 
for  which  we  were  not  prepared  to  witness,  but  which 
he  may  have  foreseen,  visited  him  directly  I  placed  my 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN-.  207 

hand  on  the  knob  of  the  door,  in  the  form  of  a  tirade 
of  abuse,  which  only  a  woman's  imagination  can  lend  to 
language  when  her  self-esteem  is  stung  by  disdain  or  dis- 
appointment. Her  tongue  flashed  its  lightning  through 
his  brain,  striking  him  dumb,  with  an  occasional  fling 
of  scorn  at  us  and  our  "disinterested  interference,"  as 
she  sneeringly  termed  it. 

When  we  led  him  to  his  room,  she  cunningly  received 
him  lying  in  her  bed  in  morning  dress.  We  saw  him 
take  her  outstretched  hand,  and  hurriedly  left  without 
hearing  a  word  or  giving  them  time  for  their  acknowl- 
edgments to  us. 

Before  the  doctor  had  presented  his  bill,  he  received 
a  check  to  his  order  for  a  liberal  amount,  inclosed  by  it- 
self in  an  envelope.  This  was  fair  warning  to  both  of 
us  that  farther  acquaintance  would  be  disagreeable,  which 
was  fully  confirmed  by  a  blank  stare  the  two  gave  me 
when  I  encountered  them  a  month  afterward.  Thus,  by 
accomplishing  a  good,  we  created  two  ingrates. 


CHAPTEK  XYII. 

Similarity  to  the  Plague. — Physician  treats  himself. — The  helpless 
Family. — A  Cold-water  Enthusiast. 

To  the  27th  of  August  the  admissions  reached  237, 
of  which  sixty -four  were  discharged  well,  and  seventy- 
one  died.  The  difficulty  in  managing  the  type  the  epi- 
demic had  now  assumed  grew  greater.  Analysts  of  the 
atmosphere  said  there  was  an  absence  of  ozone,  which, 
being  the  result  of  electricity,  is  continually  more  or  less 
floating  in  it.  Others  said  it  was  an  aggravated  form  of 
the  disease,  said  to  prevail  in  Eio  Janeiro  with  smiilar 
symptoms,  and  introduced  lately  among  us.  It  was  thus 
marked.  After  the  patient  had  been  some  days  con- 
valescing, his  appetite  or  strength  did  not  increase.    An 


208  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

irregular  pulse  was  noticeable ;  boils  appeared  in  the  up- 
per parts  of  the  body,  principally  in  the  region  of  the 
head  in  men,  and  on  the  breast  of  women.  These  boils 
were  deeply  seated,  gave  excessive  pain,  without  fever, 
accompanied  with  loss  of  sleep.  When  coaxed  by  blis- 
tering to  a  large  and  ripe  excrescence,  the  lancet  was 
applied,  and  a  copious  flow  of  yellow  matter  followed, 
offensive  to  the  smell.  Suppuration  continued  several 
days  after.  In  some  instances  ansesthetics  were  applied 
to  the  spot  before  the  patient  would  submit  to  an  opera- 
tion. I  noticed  that  almost  all  cases  attended  with  these 
symptoms  recovered.  Another  characteristic  was  in 
some  patients  who  on  the  second  day  of  their  admission 
presented  on  their  bodies  round  purple  spots  the  size  of 
a  dime,  with  the  edges  darker  than  the  centre.  If  they 
survived  the  third  day,  the  side  on  which  they  lay  for  a 
few  hours  became  of  the  same  color,  as  if  mortification 
had  set  in  from  interruption  to  a  free  circulation  through 
the  laggard  veins.  In  nearly  all  these  cases  hemorrhage 
of  the  gums  and  nostrils  was  present,  and  a  cold,  clammy 
perspiration  preceded  their  fatal  result.  Some  jDhysi- 
cians  conjectured  the  boils  to  proceed  from  an  intem- 
perate administration  of  quinine,  and  the  spots  nothing 
less  than  a  modified  type  of  the  famous  plague  which 
infected  Athens,  and  which  Lucretius  describes  so  graph- 
ically that  in  its  precision,  miitato  nomine^  it  daguerreo- 
types our  visitation.     I  use  the  translation : 

"The  head  first  flamed  with  inward  heat ;  the  eyes 
Reddened  with  fire  suffused ;  the  purple  jaws 
Sweated  with  purple  ichor ;  ulcers  foul — 
******* 

Yet  ne'er  too  hot  the  system  couldst  thou  mark 
Outward,  but  rather  tepid  to  the  touch  ; 
Tinged  still  with  purple  dye,  and  brandish'd  o'er 
With  trails  of  caustic  ulcers,  like  the  blaze 
Of  erysipelas.  *  *  *  * 

For  the  broad  eyeballs,  burning  with  disease, 
Roll'd  in  full  stare,  forever  void  of  sleep ; 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  209 

The  mind's  pure  spirit,  all  despondent,  raved ; 

The  brow  severe  ;  the  visage  fierce  and  wild ; 

The  ears  distracted,  fill'd  with  ceaseless  sounds ; 

Scanty  the  spittle,  thin,  of  saffron  dye, 

Salt,  with  hoarse  cough,  scarce  labor'd  fi-oni  the  throat. 

The  limbs  each  trembled  ;  every  tendon  twitcli'd 

Spread  over  the  hands ;  and  from  the  foot  extreme 

O'er  all  the  frame  a  gradual  coldness  crept. 

Then,  toward  the  last,  the  nostrils  close  collapsed ; 

The  nose  acute ;  eyes  hollow;  temples  scoop'd  ; 

Frigid  the  skin,  retracted  ;  o'er  the  mouth 

A  ghastly  grin  ;  the  shrivel'd  forehead  tense ; 

The  limbs  outstretched,  for  instant  death  prepared, 

Till,  with  the  eighth  descending  sun — for  few 

Eeach'd  his  ninth  lustre — life  forever  ceased." 


To  every  one  who  has  diagnosed  the  yellow  fever,  this 
book  of  Lucretius  is  interesting  in  a  high  degree,  and  de- 
serves a  thorough  perusal.  In  the  second  book  of  Thu- 
cydides,  the  behavior  of  the  plague,  as  there  described, 
likewise  presents  a  striking  similarity  to  our  complicated 
yellow  fever.  Our  city,  like  Athens,  was  one  vast  char- 
nel-house. Many  who  were  able  to  pay  for  the  inter- 
ment of  relatives  or  friends  were  worse  off  than  the  poor, 
whose  corpses  were  regularly  removed  by  the  commis- 
sioners. From  the  excessive  demand  for  hearses  and 
carriages,  many  a  corpse  poisoned  a  neighborhood  for 
hours  with  its  peculiar  stifling  effluvia;  or,  what  was 
equally  offensive  to  many,  a  sickening  odor  from  burn- 
ing pastiles,  scented  principally  with  musk,  greeted  the 
nostrils  in  every  direction.  At  the  infirmary  we  trust- 
ed entirely  to  ventilation,  cleanliness,  and  occasional  use 
of  chloride  of  soda  or  lime.  The  air  was  sweeter  there 
than  in  the  streets. 

,  a  very  gentlemanly -looking  man,  who  left  with 

us  his  diploma  from  the  College  of  Medicine  at  Paris,  en- 
tered as  a  patient  a  few  days  before  this,  with  the  request 
that  he  be  allowed  the  permission  to  direct  the  treatment 
of  his  disease.     The  well-known  courtesy  between  gen- 


210  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

tlemen  of  the  profession  justified  me  in  granting  what  I 
knew  our  appointed  physicians  would  not  object  to,  and 
I  was  not  mistaken.  He  ordered  for  himself  cupping 
and  foot-baths,  and  heroically  took  his  own  prescriptions. 
The  nurse  attending  counted  for  him  his  pulsations.  All 
went  well  until  the  third  day,  when  he  did  not  show 
signs  of  mending.  He  ordered  himself  to  be  cupped 
again,  and  increased  the  number  of  ounces  previously 
drawn.  I  do  not  remember  exactly,  but  this  second  in- 
fliction so  exhausted  him  that  he  was  from  that  time  a 
willing  patient  in  the  hands  of  our  physician.  He,  like 
most  people  sick  of  any  disease,  was  more  ignorant  of 
the  diagnosis  in  his  own  case  than  in  others.  I  did  not 
note  the  nature  of  the  curatives  he  employed,  but  recol- 
lect that  our  physician  expressed  a  surprise  at  the  strange 
treatment  he  had  subjected  himself  to.  He  sank  grad- 
ually, having  prostrated  his  strength  too  much  for  reac- 
tion. 

Though  the  treatment  in  his  case  may  have  been  out 
of  all  reason,  it  is  well  known  that  a  practice  is  followed 
by  some  physicians  successfully,  the  secret  of  which  is 
as  surprising  as  startling.  We  all  know  that,  without 
confidence  in  our  physician,  the  odds  of  getting  well  are 
against  us.  His  faith  in  his  own  remedy  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  confidence  over  that  of  any  other.  His  judg- 
ment was  strongly  favored  by  his  will.  Were  it  to  be 
told  to  a  patient  that  the  hieroglyphics  of  a  doctor's  pre- 
scription could  be  figured  into  strychnine  or  corrosive 
sublimate,  which  were  actually  used  and  partially  suc- 
cessful during  this  year  in  yellow  fever,  he  would  throw 
physic  to  the  dogs.  We  heard  of  such  ingredients  in  a 
potion,  and,  fearing  censure  from  countenancing  such  a 
bold  innovation,  we  directed  the  physician  to  discontinue 
them.  We  deemed  it  on  a  par  with  the  treatment  of 
some  of  the  faculty  at  Mobile  in  1839,  in  applying  a  blis- 
ter to  the  shaved  head,  an  invention  of  cruelty  not  to  be 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  211 

surpassed  in  the  records  of  torture  for  producing  raving 
madness. 

■ ,  a  woman  in  delicate  health,  called  at  my  house, 

and  requested  me  to  follow  her  to  her  home  to  see  what 
she  would  not  describe.  "We  are  not  sick,"  she  said; 
"but  if  I  would  see,  I  could  judge  if  they  were  proper 
objects  for  relief"  In  half  an  hour  I  visited  the  place 
of  her  address.  It  was  the  basement-room  of  a  back 
building,  next  to  a  kitchen,  about  eighteen  feet  square. 

"Walk  in,  Mr. ,"  she  said.  "Here  is  my  hus- 
band ;  here  are  our  four  children.  He  is  suffering  from 
acute  rheumatism  of  long  standing,  taken  by  exposure 
on  the  Levee  at  his  business,  and  has  been  entirely  dis- 
abled from  work  for  six  months.  In  the  mean  time,  I 
have  been  occupied  day  and  night  in  sewing  for  the  Ee- 
pository,  but  the  little  gain  from  that  barely  enables  me 
to  buy  bread  for  my  children.  As  for  flesh-meat,  we 
have  not  tasted  it  for  a  month.  We  occupied  for  years 
a  house  up  town,  which  we  had  to  give  up  when  we 
could  not  pay  the  rent,  and  to  sell  a  great  portion  of  fur- 
niture to  pay  our  debts  in  the  neighborhood.  From 
thence  we  came  here,  and  had  this  room  and  another  in 
the  main  building,  both  at  seventeen  dollars  per  month. 
From  that  time  to  this  I  have  had  to  sacrifice  furniture 
and  dresses  to  pay  the  rent  and  buy  clothing  for  my 
children,  until,  not  being  able  to  pay  for  both  rooms,  we 
removed  our  remnant  of  furniture  to  this.  If  we  are  not 
worthy  the  assistance  of  the  association,  who  are  ?" 

All  this  was  said  in  an  earnest  tone,  feelingly  and  de- 
spairingly. When  she  had  concluded  she  threw  forward 
both  arms,  and  directed  my  attention,  by  their  move- 
ment around  the  room,  to  the  living  and  fixed  objects  in 
it.  Then  she  gave  way  to  a  bitter,  prolonged  grief, 
which  the  youngest  children  not  understanding,  joined  in 
with  her.  I  saw  enough  without  questioning — without 
doubting — and  sickened  at  heart  at  such  misery. 


212  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

"  Why,  madam,  did  you  not  call  on  me  before  ?  You 
have  been  cruel  to  your  cbildren  to  let  tliem  suffer  as 
you  have  done." 

"  I  did  think  to  do  so  several  times,  but  waited  until 
the  very  last  extremity — until  I  could  work  no  more — 
until  I  saw  the  starvation  of  my  family  staring  me  in  the 
face.  I  have  been  educated  to  despise  a  beggar,  and  the 
better  days  I  have  seen  makes  this  humiliation  as  poign- 
ant as  it  is  necessary." 

I  was  struck  with  the  sense  of  her  remarks,  and  as  I 
was  engaged  in  writing  an  order  for  a  pecuniary  relief 
upon  the  treasurer,  I  made  it  now  threefold  what  I  had 
intended.  The  smile  of  joy  that  lit  up  her  countenance 
when  she  saw  the  amount  written  pictured  too  ineffable 
happiness  in  prospect,  and  she  was  speechless  from  emo- 
tion. At  last  she  recovered  herself,  and,  running  toward 
her  husband,  who  was  lying  in  the  bed  with  his  clothes 
on,  cried  out,  "William,  look  here!  look  here!  Look 
here,  too,  Johnny,  what  this  gentleman  has  given  your 
ma — five  dollars !"  Could  the  little  girls  of  Tennessee, 
who  contributed  their  picayunes  "to  help  poor  chil- 
dren," mark  the  joy  that  beamed  on  these  children's 
countenances,  and  believe  that  it  was  their  contribution 
that  saved  these  children  from  starvation,  it  were  an  en- 
viable enjoyment  for  them. 

I  approached  the  husband.  His  frame  was  reduced 
to  a  skeleton.  By  describing  his  emj^loyment  he  brought 
me  to  a  faint  recollection  of  him.  The  picture  of  hope- 
lessness and  helplessness  was  complete  by  a  brilliancy 
of  the  eye  noticeable  in  men  of  acute  suffering  from  nerv- 
ous disease  or  long  privation.  The  four  children  group- 
ed themselves  together,  each  with  one  or  two  garments, 
shoeless,  thin,  emaciated,  and  cheerless.  I  walked  to- 
ward them,  and  asked  if  they  would  not  like  to  have 
some  cakes.  Instead  of  a  joyful  reply,  they  looked  at 
me  as  if  I  mocked  them,  or  was  the  dreaded  landlord. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  213 

I  left  them,  promising  that  I  considered  them  under 
our  charge ;  that  I  should  first  meet  their  pressing  ne- 
cessities, and  return  in  a  few  moments  to  listen  to  other 
wants.  At  an  adjoining  grocery  I  purchased  every  thing 
that  was  indispensable  to  comfortable  subsistence  for 
one  week,  including  cakes,  and  was  followed  with  them 
to  the  house.  First  distributing  the  cakes,  which  were 
greedily  munched,  I  left  the  packages  for  their  private 
examination  and  enjoyment.  That  first  night's  feast  for 
many  months  must  have  made  them  feel  that  virtue  is 
not  dead  in  this  world,  since  a  Providence  had  furnished 
the  instruments  to  dispense  the  goods  of  others  to  the 
poor  and  needj^. 

At  dusk  I  returned ;  a  candle  was  burning,  and  the 
children  playing  about  the  room.  When  they  perceived 
me,  they  stood  still.  Upon  my  beckoning  them  to  me, 
they  all  approached  with  confidence,  the  largest  ones 
smiling  and  glad  from  the  effects  of  a  satisfied  appetite. 

''  Are  you  the  gentleman  that  sent  ma  the  coffee  ?" 
said  one. 

"Didn't  you  give  us  the  cakes?"  said  another. 

"It  was  the  grocer,"  I  replied. 

"No,  it  was  you  ;  and  you  do  not  know  how  happy 
our  dinner  made  us.    DidnH  it,  Jane?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane ;  "  I  ate  a  heajj.  I  wish  I  could  have 
such  good  things  every  dayP 

The  mother  stood  by  in  the  mean  time,  watching  the 
expression  of  her  children,  and  smiling  with  kindred 
feelings  of  relief  Then  rolled  the  unbidden  tears  from 
her  eyes.  "  Oh  God !"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  have  poor 
people  to  do  in  this  world !" 

I  told  her  she  should  not  want  during  the  summer ; 
that  we  had  plenty  of  money,  and  all  for  such  as  she 
was.  I  requested  her  now  to  tell  me,  and  for  once  with- 
out delicacy,  of  what  more  she  wanted,  and,  if  possible, 
she  should  be  relieved. 


214  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

She  said  she  had  three  days  before  had  an  advance  on 
some  furniture  sent  to  auction,  among  which  was  a  cra- 
dle, of  little  value  in  itself,  but  endeared  to  her  from 
having  rocked  all  her  children  in  their  infancy ;  also  a 
work-box,  which  she  had  presented  her  eldest  daughter 
in  better  days.  She  knew  they  would  not  bring  more 
than  the  advance,  and  she  thought  the  auctioneer,  who 
spoke  kindly  to  her,  had  given  their  full  value  for  these 
times.     They  were  to  be  sold  on  the  morrow. 

The  next  day,  at  twelve  o'clock,  I  went  to  the  auction, 
and  had  pointed  out  to  me  the  articles  by  one  of  the 
children  whom  I  recognized  there.  I  was  afterward 
joined  by  the  other  three,  who  stood  beside  me,  silent- 
ly waiting  for  their  things  to  be  put  up  for  sale. 

"  That's  my  work-box,"  said  the  eldest,  as  it  was  hand- 
ed to  the  auctioneer.  I  bought  it,  and  handed  it  to  her. 
She  bent  her  head  over  it  as  she  took  it ;  she  wept,  while 
the  others  smiled  with  joy.  The  other  articles  were  suc- 
cessively put  up  and  bought  in.  They  went  home,  the 
box  in  front,  to  announce  to  their  parents  the  recovery 
of  their  cherished  lares. 

I  rented  the  adjoining  room  they  had  vacated,  and 
set  them  to  work  in  putting  in  the  furniture.  Every 
day  for  a  week  I  dropped  in  to  see  these  worthy  recipi- 
ents of  the  charity  of  our  donors.  I  sent  the  husband 
to  the  maisoii  de  sante^  whence  he  departed  two  months 
after,  sufficiently  relieved  to  resume  his  calling  and  sup- 
port his  family.  The  mother  occupied  herself  with  her 
needle,  while  the  children  were  tidy  in  their  appearance, 
and  since  have  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  our  public 
schools. 

Of  all  the  good  I  had  agency  in,  none  pleased  me  in 
the  result  more  than  this.  Years  have  passed ;  they  still 
remain  together  in  comfortable  circumstances.  They 
will  instantly  recognize  this  sketch,  but,  as  no  one  was 
in  the  least  privy  to  the  circumstances,  the  liberty  I  have 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  215 

tlius  taken  with  tlie  circumstances  can  not  humiliate 
them. 

In  its  place  I  should  have  noted  that  the  mother  call- 
ed at  my  house  six  months  afterward,  and  presented  an 
elaborate  and  beautifully- worked  child's  jacket,  which 
she  begged  me  to  accept.  My  patients  had  many  ways 
of  expressing  their  gratitude  after  they  had  recovered 
health  and  occupation.  One  never  approached  me  with- 
out the  extravagant  demonstration  of  falling  on  her 
knees.  Some  seized  my  hand  and  kissed  it.  A  pair  of 
white  doves  was  the  present  of  a  young  Grerman,  whose 
husband  and  herself  were  saved  from  the  epidemic,  and 
who  could  not  express  in  intelligible  language  to  me  her 
appreciation  of  my  agency.  To  deal  with  others  at  their 
little  shops  was  equivalent  to  being  presented  with  what 
I  called  for,  for  they  would  take  no  pay,  and  thus  drove 
me  elsewhere.  Many  requested  me  to  name  some  ar- 
ticle of  their  handicraft,  which  they  wished  to  make  for 
me ;  but,  foolish  things !  if  they  knew  how  much  I  had 
the  advantage  of  them  in  the  pleasure  of  bestowing,  my 
debt  would  ceaselessly  remain  unpaid. 

On  the  29th,  a  genuine  New  Englander,  who  said  he 
was  not  acclimated,  and  was  of  that  thin  habit  of  body 
which  generally  goes  through  an  epidemic  of  yellow 
fever,  but  not  cholera,  unscathed,  presented  himself  to 
me,  and  asked  permission  to  introduce  a  system  of  cure 
for  yellow  fever  that  he  had  tried  on  several  of  his  friends 
successfully,  the  certainty  of  which  he  would  demon- 
strate in  twenty -four  hours  if  I  would  allow  him  some 
patients.  The  certain  cure  for  yellow  fever  may  never 
yet  be  discovered.  All  practices  have  a  like  ratio  of 
cure,  and  knowing  their  partial  success,  adopted,  too,  by 
professional  men,  I  was  naturally  enough  opposed  to  a 
new-fangled  theory  from  an  amateur  which  might  have 
cost  the  life  of  one  patient.  In  this  year  one  of  our  most 
eminent  physicians,  who  is  now  always  called  in  on  con- 


216  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

sultation  of  important  cases,  left  the  city  early,  not  hav- 
ing saved  one  patient,  and  determined  not  to  experi- 
ment when  his  knowledge  and  experience  had  failed  to 
produce  expected  results.  I  remember  being  at  the 
hospital  one  day  when  a  practitioner  from  another  state 
was  accompanied  through  the  wards  by  the  visiting  phy- 
sicians, all  acknowledged  men  of  talent,  for  the  pur]DOse 
of  seeing  yellow  fever.  After  he  had  satisfied  himself 
on  the  diagnostic  points,  he  said,  "  Gentlemen,  being  sat- 
isfied with  an  inspection  of  the  article,  will  you  now  tell 
me  of  the  treatment  you  adopt  toward  it?"  The  four 
M.D.'s  were  silent,  neither  assuming  that  he  was  ad- 
dressed. The  question  was  again  put  without  personal 
direction.     At  last  the  boldest  of  them  said,  "Do  you 

address  yourself,  Dr. ,  to  me,  or  to  Dr.  A.,  B.,  or  C. ; 

for  we  each  differ  in  treatment,  though,  I  believe,  with 
average  success?" 

The  year  of  the  great  epidemic,  a  sanitary  commission 
was  established  to  obtain  from  all  tropical  points  within 
the  yellow  fever  zone  the  most  eminent  testimony  re- 
specting the  origin  and  behavior  of  the  disease.  A  vo- 
luminous treatise  was  the  result;  but  the  most  import- 
ant object  of  the  commission  was  lost  sight  of  in  not  pro- 
pounding interrogatories  resjDCCting  the  nature  and  the 
success  of  the  different  modes  of  treatment.  The  book 
is  simply  designed  to  prove  that  the  evil  may  be  pre- 
vented, when  a  trifling  addition  would  enhance  its  value 
to  the  student  and  general  reader  by  valuable  informa- 
tion for  its  cure. 

^A  nos  moidons.  My  Yankee  enthusiastic,  whom  I  had 
referred  to  the  physicians,  conversed  a  long  time  with 
them,  but  did  not  prevail  over  them.  He  went  off  with 
a  leer  of  disappointment  on  his  hatchet  face,  as  if  he  had 
failed  in  a  mighty  speculation  through  the  stupidity  of 
others.  When  he  left  I  was  told  that  he  desio-ned  to 
cure  the  fever  by  the  cold-water  system — to  plunge  in 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  217 

cold  water,  cause  reaction  under  blankets,  and  for  ene- 
mas and  drink  nothing  but,  and  plentifully  of,  cold 
water,  whicb,  entre  nous^  might  be  as  successful  as  any 
treatment,  and  is  very  plausible.  From  his  language 
and  gait  I  took  him  to  be  a  sea-captain ;  his  manner  was 
pleasant,  while  good-humor  and  shrewdness  gleamed  in 
his  countenance.  I  do  not  doubt  now  that  the  purest 
motives  of  benevolence  actuated  him,  and  I  regret  that 
the  physicians  had  not  consented  to  his  request.  Some 
of  the  most  famous  cures  have  been  introduced  into  pro- 
fessional practice  by  charlatans  and  quacks  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  specific  qualities  of  their  agents,  and 
why  should  we  be  surprised  more  than  the  diplomated 
when  we  know  that  science  is  built  upon  nature  and  ex- 
periments ? 


CHAPTER  XYIIL 


The  Italian  Restaurateur. — An  afflicted  Female. — A  Physician  and  a 

Triend. 

A  SINGULAR  complaint  was  made  to  me  by  a  patient 
in  the  male  ward  against  an  old  man,  who  was  one  of 
the  nurses  I  retained,  by  his  urgent  appeals  to  do  so,  as 
an  act  of  charity,  even  without  pay,  and  by  the  promise 
not  to  be  caught  near  where  the  liquors  were  stored. 
The  patient  told  me  that  the  old  man  sat  on  the  bench 
at  the  head  of  the  walk  between  two  rows  of  cots,  from 
whence,  oblivious  to  every  thing  else,  he  watched  in- 
tently the  motions  of  eight  or  ten  nearest  to  him,  so 
much  so  that  he  was  frequently  deaf  to  raps  or  calls. 
When,  however,  he  discovered  any  of  the  sick  express 
agony  in  the  lineaments  of  their  face  or  contortions  of 
limb,  he  would  chuckle  audibly,  to  the  great  annoyance 
of  the  sufferer  and  the  patient-complainant.  Shocked  at 
such  an  outrage  upon  decency,  and  such  desecration  of 
his  service,  I  stepped  aside,  unobserved,  to  watch  him. 

K 


218  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

In  a  few  moments  I  noticed  the  old  man  swiftly  sweep 
with  his  eyes  the  range  of  the  cots,  when,  fixing  them 
upon  a  frame  twitching  nnder  convulsions,  a  smile  Ht  up 
his  face,  as  if  chewing  the  cud  of  some  sweet  fancy. 
When,  in  another,  black  vomit  exhibited  its  fatal  pres- 
tige, or  prostration  of  muscular  force  was  shown  by  a 
patient  in  attempts  to  move  or  to  pull  the  bed-clothes 
over  himself,  a  grin,  sometimes  accompanied  by  a  chuckle, 
was  visible  in  him.  I  noticed  that  when  he  caught  the 
eye  of  any  who  was  affording  this  strange  delight  to  him, 
he  would  throw  his  gaze  upon  another.  While  he  con- 
tinued abstracted  in  this  idiosyncrasy,  I  placed  myself 
before  him.  His  countenance  immediately  exhibited  its 
usual  quiet  and  benevolent  expression.  I  beckoned  him 
to  follow  me,  and,  when  outside  of  the  room,  demanded 
what  he  meant  by  such  infamous  display  of  unfeeling- 
ness — such  contempt  for  human  sj^mpathy. 

''I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  he.  "I  am  an  old 
man,  and  have  suffered  much  in  the  body  and  mind.  I 
would  not  hurt  any  one's  feelings  for  the  world ;  but, 
when  I  reflect  upon  what  poor  creatures  we  are,  and 
what  funny  objects  we  make  of  ourselves  when  dying 
and  suffering,  I  can  not  help  laughing  at  the  exhibition 
I  must  have  made  of  myself,  and  what  I  shall  make  of 
myself" 

I  did  not  exactly  appreciate  the  philosophy  of  his  in- 
dulgence, and  told  him  that  I  would  not  discharge  him, 
but  would  change  him  to  duties  where  he  might  enjoy 
his  passion  to  his  heart's  content.  Accordingly,  I  put 
him  in  the  corps  of  those  intrusted  with  the  removal  of 
the  dead  bodies,  giving  him  exclusive  charge  of  their  de- 
livery to  the  commissary  for  burying.  He  proved  a 
willing  worker,  with  grim-visaged  death  itself  to  con- 
front. The  summer  after  this,  on  a  visit  to  the  Charity 
Hospital,  I  saw  him  resting  his  back  against  one  of  the 
bed-posts.     He  accosted  me,  saying  he  had  no  employ- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN.  ^  219 

ment,  and,  feeling  sick,  he  was  admitted,  saving  to  him 

thereby  the  expense  of  board.    "  Look,  Mr. ,  at  that 

man  there!"  chuckHng  as  formerly,  as  he  drew  my  at- 
tention to  a  man  of  about  forty  years,  emaciated  by  dis- 
ease, and  scarcely  able  to  sit  in  his  chair.  "  Still  at  your 
old  vice,"  I  rejoined,  and  passed  on.  If  rained  hopes 
and  a  seared  heart  are  any  palliation  for  such  conduct,  we 
should  pity  rather  than  execrate  him.  He  applied  to 
me  months  afterward  to  recommend  him  to  a  situation 
that  he  was  equal  to,  and  in  his  garrulity  was  led  to 
speak  of  himself  and  his  past  life.  To  me  only,  he  said, 
he  had  ever  revealed  as  much ;  but,  as  I  had  done  some- 
thing for  him,  he  wished  to  show  how  he  had  suffered, 
and  wherefore  he  was  worthy  of  my  assistance.  He  had 
kept  a  restaurant  at  "Washington  City  twenty-six  years 
ago,  which  was  resorted  to  by  Webster,  Clay,  Calhoun, 
and  Jackson,  with  whom  he  pretended  intimacy.  Like 
all  Italians,  industrious  and  frugal,  he  accumulated  a 
large  fortune.  An  only  daughter  of  his,  who  had  re- 
ceived an  accomplished  schooling — his  only  pride — ''his 
eyes,"  as  he  expressed  it — was  run  off  and  seduced  by  a 
villain.  Humbled  and  disheartened,  he  forthwith  re- 
tired from  business.  To  suppress  grief  and  mortifica- 
tion, he  gambled.  In  a  short  time  all  his  wealth  was 
gone.  He  removed  from  "Washington,  and  wandered 
through  the  larger  cities  of  the  Union,  of&ciating  as  cook, 
waiter,  and  nurse  ever  since.  He  concluded  by  saying, 
"  You  reprimanded  me  for  laughing  at  dying  people ;  I 
laugh  at  death  now,  but  he  does  not  take  his  revenge." 
He  has  now,  though,  conquered  him,  he  having  passed 
its  portals  some  years  since. 

Though  business  required  but  little  attention,  the  time 
I  gave  to  it  I  desired  to  be  undisturbed,  and  gave  posi- 
tive orders  that  no  applicant  for  relief  should  be  direct- 
ed to  my  office.  It  was  with  some  surprise,  then,  that  I 
learned  from  those  in  contiguity  to  it  that  a  lady  had  re- 


220  DIARY  OF  A  SAMABITAX. 

peatedly  called  to  see  me  within  the  previous  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  had  refused  to  seek  me  at  my  house.  I 
remained,  awaiting  another  call  from  her.  Several  friends 
were  chatting  with  me,  when  I  heard  a  rap  at  the  door. 
It  was  she.  On  being  informed  of  my  name,  she  remark- 
ed, in  French, ''  I  wish  to  see  you,  sir,  for  a  few  minutes 
in  private." 

''  Speak  out,  madam,"  I  replied ;  ''  the  gentlemen  here 
will  not  understand  a  word  you  say." 

"  What  I  have  to  say  to  you,  sir,  can  not  be  said  now 
or  here." 

By  retreating  through  the  doorway  she  invited  me 
after  her.  I  closed  the  door,  and  told  her  she  might 
now,  safely  and  unheard,  tell  me  what  I  could  do  for 
her.  As  I  approached  she  continued  to  retreat,  until  she 
had  descended  several  stairs. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir.  I  can  not  tell  you  here  what  I  have 
to  communicate.  Pray  oblige  me  by  calling  at  my 
house." 

"  Is  any  of  your  family  sick  ?  or  perhaps,  madam,  you 
wish  to  convince  me  you  are  in  need.  Be  not  over-del- 
icate in  mentioning  your  wants.  Is  your  family  sick  or 
in  distress?" 

"  ISTo,  sir,  neither.  You  can  relieve  me,  though,  from 
much  misery.  I  again  pray  you  to  call  on  me.  My 
name  is  Mad. ,  in Street." 

"Enough,  madam.  I  do  not  know  your  motive  for 
all  this  mystery,  but  I  see  you  are  earnest.  As  3- our 
residence  is  far  off,  I  will  take  it  in  my  round  of  visits 
this  afternoon." 

She  begged  me  to  be  punctual,  and  left. 

Her  appearance  and  language  indicated  the  woman  of 
good-breeding  and  active  intelligence.  Her  brow  was 
alternately  knit  and  relaxed.  The  restless  eye  spoke  to 
me  of  intense  mental  suffering,  endeavoring  to  be  relieved 
by  something  to  divert  the  agonizing  thought  from  her- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  221 

self.  Had  I  been  told  she  was  insane,  I  should  have  been 
confirmed  in  the  belief.  Her  frame  was  en  hon pointy  her 
complexion  ruddy  with  the  glow  of  health.  It  was  re- 
markable in  her  that  she  did  not  remain  still  or  quiet  an 
instant,  either  moving  her  limbs  as  though  with  an  un- 
easy-fitting dress,  or  engaged  with  her  hands  in  arrang- 
ing her  cape,  or  pressing  a  handkerchief  to  her  neck  and 
bosom.  As  it  was  an  exceeding  warm  day,  this  restless- 
ness I  attributed  to  no  other  cause,  but  is  explained  oth- 
erwise in  the  sequel. 

I  was  later  to  my  appointment  than  I  had  fixed  upon. 
Indeed,  I  thought  some  play  was  intended  upon  my  sym- 
pathies by  a  home  manifestation  of  want  which  did  not 
really  exist.  A  faint  suspicion  at  one  time  possessed 
me  that,  from  the  obscurity  of  the  place,  an  evil  design 
was  in  waiting.  ^'-Jacta  est  aleaj^  as  an  apophthegm,  has 
always  sustained  me  under  apprehension ;  so,  trusting 
to  the  guidance  of  the  cab-driver,  I  was  ready  for  the  de- 
nouement To  my  knock  at  the  gate  a  lad  of  twelve 
years  made  his  appearance.  He  said  his  mother  was 
near  by,  and  if  I  would  wait  a  while  he  would  go  for 
her.  On  the  side  to  the  entrance  of  the  house  was  a  pla- 
teau of  Bermuda  and  cocoa  grass  in  beautiful  luxuriance, 
flanked  by  rose-bushes  and  spreading  fig-trees.  Vines 
of  different  kinds  were  intermixed,  and  formed  a  com- 
plete shade  to  the  gallery,  the  steps  to  which,  and  the 
floor,  showed  habitual  handiwork  from  the  polish  there- 
on. The  door  was  shortly  opened,  and  a  servant  in- 
vited me  within.  I  endeavored  to  learn  something  of 
my  mysterious  applicant  by  scanning  the  furniture  and 
ornaments  of  the  rooms.  They  were  neatly  furnished 
with  what  every  one  considers  merely  necessary  to  me- 
diocrity of  pursuit.  An  escritoire  with  shelves  contain- 
ed a  select  library  of  miscellaneous  and  historical  works, 
while  some  pendent  shelves  were  filled  with  lighter  read- 
ing, all  in  French.     On  the  walls  were  hung  several 


222  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

large  engravings,  which,  by  the  twihght  of  the  room,  I 
judged  were  more  prized  for  the  subject  illustrated  than 
for  their  linear  excellence.  I  had  not  time  to  pursue 
investigation  farther,  as  a  rustling  in  the  passage  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  my  applicant. 

"  Madam,  you  are  a  mystery ;  please  now  unravel 
yourself;"  on  saying  which,  I  advanced  toward  her  and 
extended  my  hand.  Of  this  she  took  no  notice,  but, 
stepping  back  to  a  rocking-chair,  pointed  to  me  a  seat 
near  where  I  was  standing.  I  advanced  the  chair  to- 
ward her,  and  again  stretched  out  my  hand.  To  my 
surprise  and  chagrin,  she  not  only  held  hers  back,  but, 
to  make  the  rejection  of  any  such  familiarity  more  point- 
ed, placed  both  of  hers  behind  her  back.  A  little  miffed, 
I  remarked  that  perhaps  she  had  changed  her  mind  with 
regard  to  seeing  me.  "  Oh  no,  sir,"  said  she ;  "  first  hear 
all,  and  my  conduct  will  explain  itself" 

First  shutting  the  door,  she  resumed  her  seat  in  the 
rocking-chair ;  then,  bending  over  her  hands,  sighed  as 
if  she  strove  to  master  her  feelings  for  the  proposed  de- 
velopment. I  again  arose  from  my  chair  to  advance, 
and  urge  her  to  unburden  herself  of  this  strange  afflic- 
tion. No  sooner  did  she  see  me  again  erect,  than,  appre- 
hensive of  my  approach,  she  sprang  from  her  seat,  and 
with  fearful  gestures,  as  if  keeping  off  some  monster  of 
the  brain,  extended  her  arms,  and  in  a  solemn  theatrical 
and  decisive  tone  cautioned  me  not  to  move  a  step  far- 
ther. Immediately  the  thought  electrically  flashed  upon 
me  that  she  was  insane,  and  that,  knowing  the  period- 
ical visit  of  the  paroxysm,  she  had  invited  me  to  see  it 
and  meet  the  consequences.  My  first  impulse  was  that 
of  the  cat,  which  instinctively  fixes  upon  an  outlet  for 
retreat  before  a  threatened  danger  is  encountered.  Be- 
side me  was  an  open  window.  In  my  mind  I  had  meas- 
ured the  facility  of  clearing  it,  and  awaited  the  least 
demonstration  of  approach  on  her  part.    She  maintained 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  223 

her  ground,  I  mine.  I  can  not  compute  tlie  time  by 
minutes  wlien  there  were  hours  of  nightmare  horrors 
presented  to  me  in  an  encounter  with  a  woman  under 
such  influence,  and  in  her  own  house.  At  length  she 
sat  down,  and  bade  me  do  the  same,  saying  if  I  remain- 
ed still  she  would  explain  all. 

I  now  found  myself  at  comparative  'ease,  but,  for  fear 
of  awakening  some  latent  feeling,  or  touching  some 
chord  which  would  reproduce  the  excitement  in  a  more 
startling  form,  I  was  as  dumb  and  fixed  as  a  statue.  She 
began : 

"  Mr. ,  when  I  determined  to  see  you,  I  knew  of 

you  from  many  whom  you  have  attended  during  their 
sickness.  I  saw  that  your  goodness  of  heart  was  such 
that  you  can  sympathize  as  well  as  pity.  I  will  now 
tell  you  of  my  peculiar  distress ;  but  first,  sir,  excuse  me 
if,  with  the  great  horror  that  I  have  for  my  complaint, 
and  exposure  of  it  to  others,  I  think  proper  to  require 
of  you  a  solemn  promise  not  to  divulge  to  any  one  what 
I  am  about  to  relate  to  you." 

The  mystery  thickened  with  the  confidence  and  flat- 
tery. I  could  not  rid  myself  of  the  impression  that  she 
was  laboring  under  some  hallucination.  I  concluded 
that,  as  I  was  in  the  play,  I  must  take  the  cue  accord- 
ingly, and  emphatically  and  without  reservation  gave 
her  my  word  of  honor  that  I  would  forget  all  she  told 
me  as  soon  as  I  left  her  house. 

"  Then,  sir,  we  understand  each  other.  If  you  look 
around  at  the  appointments  of  this  house,  your  inference 
would  be  that  its  mistress  is  endowed  with  a  taste  for 
and  a  habit  of  cleanliness.  Indeed,  sir,  the  luxury  of 
cleanliness  is  no  less  attractive  to  me  personally  than 
the  necessity  of  it,  as  one  of  my  parents  died  from  a  cu- 
taneous disease,  and  I  always  feared  to  inherit  it.  I  de- 
termined, when  it  should  show  itself  upon  me,  that  if  I 
did  not  succeed  in  destroying  it  in  its  incipiency,  I  would 


224  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

swallow  laudanum,  and  thus  conceal  my  shame  from  the 
world  and  my  husband.  Last  week  my  husband  left 
town,  to  be  absent  on  business  for  two  or  three  weeks. 
On  the  night  before  last  I  could  not  sleep  on  account  of 
a  pricking  sensation  over  my  whole  body.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  found  I  had  so  tortured  my  flesh  that  hard  lumps 
appeared  here  and  there,  which  later  in  the  day  became 
of  a  bruised  color,  with  increased  and  continued  irrita- 
bility. Ashamed  to  see  a  physician,  I  consulted  a  med- 
ical work  which  I  bought,  and  have  dosed  myself  until 
I  am  feverish  from  the  effects.  From  feeling  no  relief,  I 
thought  I  must  be  mistaken  in  the  disease,  and  determ- 
ined to  see  you  and  ask  you  to  devise  some  way  that  a 
physician  could  examine  into  the  symptoms  so  that  I 
should  not  be  identified  by  him  or  any  one  else.  ISTo 
one  sees  me — no  one  shall  see  me  until  this  dreaded  dis- 
ease is  destroyed.  I  have  to  keep  my  son  at  a  distance 
from  me,  for  fear  of  giving  to  him  the  disease  by  con- 
tact. This  is  unhappiness  to  me,  as  he  has  but  a  short 
time  of  vacation  to  remain  with  me.  "What  is  more 
dreadful  than  any  thing  is  meeting  with  my  husband, 
who  can  but  repel  me  as  a  mass  of  corruption.  Am  I 
not  miserable  ?  am  I  not  to  be  pitied  ?"  She  threw  her- 
self in  a  posture  of  distress,  and  sobbed  and  wept. 

A  thousand  reflections  passed  through  my  brain. 
When  I  saw  before  me  a  robust  frame,  and  cheeks  flush- 
ed with  health,  complaining  of  a  loathsome  disease,  I  was 
disposed  to  think  her  hypochondriac.  Pretending  to 
t,reat  her  statement  with  levity,  as  proceeding  from  a  dis- 
ordered brain,  I  again  advanced,  with  a  determination  to 
put  an  end  to  the  farce  and  my  farther  apprehensions, 
and  said  I  would  send  her  a  physician  on  whom  she 
might  rely  with  the  fullest  confidence,  at  the  same  time 
again  offering  my  hand,  hoping  that,  as  I  persisted  in 
taking  her  by  the  hand,  she  would  be  impressed  with 
the  folly  of  her  suspicion  that  she  was  afflicted  with  a 


DIARY   OF  A   SAMARITAN.  225 

contagious  disease.  Upon  her  again  repelling  this  act 
of  politeness,  I  took  np  my  hat  and  was  about  leaving 
the  room,  when  she  hurried  between  me  and  the  door, 
and,  with  her  back  against  it,  begged  me  "not  to  leave 
her  to  despair." 

At  the  agonizing  tone  of  the  words  I  halted,  and,  obe- 
dient to  the  significant  motion  of  her  hand,  again  seat- 
ed myself.  In  my  experience  of  distressed  humanity  I 
have  seen  much  madness,  and  its  twin-sister  delirium. 
Being  acquainted  with  the  form  or  nature  of  it,  whether 
proceeding  from  complete  derangement  of  the  mind  or 
temporal,  as  in  fever  or  dissipation,  I  could  be  sufficient- 
ly guarded  against  its  freaks.  This  case  presented  no 
clew  to  divine  the  seat  or  cause  of  it.  I  saw  she  was  de- 
termined to  have  a  disease  whether  or  no.  Her  position 
at  the  door  satisfied  me  that  she  would  use  force  to  con- 
vince me ;  and,  if  I  did  not  expect  to  survive  to  record 
this  adventure,  it  was  because  the  atmosphere  of  her 
presence  was  electric  and  subduing,  as  are  said  to  be  the 
vapors  that  reach  the  sense  within  the  hissing  sound  of 
the  rattlesnake.  I  again  seated  myself,  when  she  re- 
sumed her  confidence  in  a  calmer  tone. 

"A  few  words,  and  I  am  done,"  she  said.  "I  must 
apologize  to  you  for  this  display  of  feeling,  but  I  could 
not  help  it.  I  will  check  myself  hereafter.  Apj^roach 
to  the  window  with  me  and  look  at  these  blotches  on  my 
arms ;  as  they  are  here,  so  are  they  over  all  my  body. 
Oh !  sir,  what  will  cure  them  ?  Can  you  not  bring  your 
phj^sician  to  your  office  in  the  course  of  an  hour?  I 
shall  there  be  unknown,  as  I  shall  be  completely  veiled ; 
and,  for  the  sake  of  a  woman's  happiness,  think  not  of 
me  afterward." 

During  the  whole  time  she  was  speaking  she  was 
writhing  with  pain,  as  she  had  commenced  to  scratch 
one  part  affected,  which  gave  her  an  itching  for  irritating 
her  whole  body  in  the  same  way,     I  thought  her  com- 

K2 


226  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAIT. 

plaint  was  a  very  common  one,  thougli  in  a  progressed 
stage,  and  asked  her  if  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  lying 
down  on  the  inviting  grass  before  her  gallery.  Mistak- 
ing my  question  for  insult  or  derision,  she  turned  upon 
me  a  scornful  look,  remarking  that  she  took  me  for  a 
gentleman,  and  that  she  would  have  her  husband  cow- 
hide me  when  he  came  to  town.  She  was  about  leav- 
ing by  the  door  opposite  the  one  I  entered,  when  I  fol- 
lowed, acting  her  part  over  again  by  placing  myself 
against  the  door,  with  the  remark  that  she  must  be  as 
patient  with  me  as  I  with  her.  "  Sir,  you  can  add  no 
more  to  the  mean,  ungentlemanly  insinuations  you  have 
made ;  so  what  more  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"  This,  madam,  that  there  is  an  insect  which  is  term- 
ed the  hete  rouge^  which  infests  grasses  in  this  country, 
the  bite  or  entrance  of  which  into  the  skin  will  produce 
precisely  the  same  marks  from  irritation  which  you  have 
now  on  your  body.  It  was  for  this  I  asked  you  if  you 
were  in  the  habit  of  sitting  on  the  gi^ass." 

She  studied  a  while,  and  then  said,  "Are  you  cer- 
tain?" 

I  told  her  it  was  in  my  experience,  and  that,  if  she 
would  produce  me  some  sweet-oil,  I  would  charm  away 
all  sensations  of  itching  and  pain.  She  looked  rather 
credulous,  passed  me,  and  returned  with  a  bottle  of  sweet- 
oil.  With  her  handkerchief  she  applied  it  to  her  arms. 
In  the  mean  time  I  was  looking  upon  the  horizon,  rev- 
eling in  the  anticipation  of  immoderate  laughter  should 
it  turn  out  as  I  expected.  In  a  few  minutes  she  said 
she  thought  she  felt  so  much  relieved  that  she  must  ab- 
ruptly leave  me  to  make  the  application  on  her  body, 
and,  if  successful,  nothing  would  prevent  ah  early  ac- 
knowledgment of  her  gratitude,  and  ample  amends  for 
the  harsh  language  she  had  applied  to  me. 

Has  it  ever  been  one's  good  luck  to  be  shot  at  and 
missed,  or  to  be  singled  out  in  safety  from  an  explosion 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  227 

or  shipwreck  ?  Such  a  one  may  properly  appreciate  my 
feelings  in  escaj)ing  the  dreadful  suspense  I  was  in  while 
confronting  a  woman  whom  I  supposed  mad,  to  which 
may  be  added  the  comfortable  assurance  that  her  hus- 
band would  cowhide  me  for  a  supposed  insult.  I  re- 
solved thereafter  not  to  be  led  into  such  slippery  places ; 
that  yellow  fever  and  cholera  were  specialties  of  wide 
enough  range  for  relief;  and  that,  if  any  more  confidence 
cases  presented  themselves  to  me  likely  to  invite  scenes 
as  in  the  foregoing,  I  would  at  once  refer  them  to  the 
physician  or  the  priest.  I  took  French  leave,  jumped 
into  my  cab,  and  threw  myself  back  with  a  long  breath, 
revolving  all  the  circumstances  in  my  mind,  a  feeling  of 
mortification  at  being  misapprehended  overcoming  eveiy 
other,  until  I  saw  our  physician's  gig  standing  before  a 
house  a  little  ahead.  Then  I  prepared  myself  for  a  treat 
in  disclosing  the  whole  of  this  eventful  evening.  With- 
out mentioning  her  name  to  him,  I  thought  myself  fully 
justified  by  the  suffering  I  had  undergone,  and  by  the 
extinction  of  her  fears  of  the  supposed  disease,  to  waive 
the  solemnity  of  my  promise  of  secrecy.  It  was  replete 
with  scenes  too  rich  to  be  chuckled  over  in  private  or 
without  the  zest  of  companionship.  Sending  my  cab 
ahead,  I  took  a  seat  with  him ;  and,  what  with  his  inter- 
ruptions by  laughter  and  comments,  before  the  denoue- 
ment was  closed  I  was  fully  repaid  for  the  mental  suffer- 
ing I  had  experienced. 

About  three  weeks  after  this,  curiosity  prompted  me 
to  drive  out  of  my  way  some  squares  to  pass  the  house 
of  my  hete  rouge  afilictant.  She  was  sitting  by  a  window, 
and  beckoned  me  to  stop.  With  the  liveliest  emotions 
of  joy  and  expressions  of  gratitude  upon  seeing  me,  she 
recapitulated  the  adventure  of  that  evening,  portraying 
more  minutely  and  amusingly  my  embarrassment  than 
I  have  her  hallucination.  She  said  that,  when  she  be- 
came satisfied  that  I  had  correctly  stated  the  cause  of 


228  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

her  annoyance  and  its  remedy,  slie  ^Yas  bold  in  commu- 
nicating her  fears  and  her  cure  to  her  neighbors.  In  one 
thing  I  had  presumed  upon,  she  said,  which  gave  her 
then  excitable  mind  a  suspicion  of  my  frivolity  or  dispo- 
sition to  insult  her,  I  was  mistaken.  The  hetes  rouges  had 
not  invaded  her  person  from  sitting  or  lying  on  the 
grass,  but  from  the  bed-linen,  which  she  was  in  the  hab- 
it of  having  daily  aired  upon  it. 

A  melancholy  connection  hangs  to  this  reminiscence. 
The  same  physician  who  had  enjoyed  with  me  its  rela- 
tion met  me  on  the  same  night  at  a  late  hour  at  the  club. 
When  it  lay  in  my  way,  I  generally  resorted  there  to 
pick  up  the  news  of  the  day.  One  was  always  sure  to 
find  three  or  more  habitues,  who  lingered  out  the  early 
watches  of  the  night  in  social  talk  in  preference  to  being 
tossed  on  a  sleepless  pillow  in  a  solitary  room,  disturbed 
by  sad  thoughts  on  the  devastation  the  epidemic  was 
making  among  their  friends.  It  was  a  pleasant  relaxa- 
tion from  my  duties,  and  time  flew,  as  did  the  Cham- 
pagne, as  each  would  add  his  quota  of  talk  for  its  enjoy- 
ment.    Aside  from  all,  Dr. and  I  again  brought  up 

the  night's  adventure  and  similar  professional  ones.  It 
was  the  only  night  during  a  long  reign  of  gloom  that 
joy  held  entire  sway  over  me,  not  to  the  prejudice  of 
my  patients,  for  I  had  left  nothing  unattended  to  either 
at  the  infirmary  or  outside.  It  was  a  night,  though,  as  I 
have  intimated,  pregnant  to  me  of  mournful  result  and 
of  bitter  memories,  as  I  believe  the  indulgence  to  an 
earl}^  hour  hastened  the  development  of  the  seeds  of  yel- 
low fever  in  our  estimable  physician.  He  was  counsel- 
ed by  myself  and  others  not  to  overtax  his  energies  in 
his  duties,  as  it  was  his  first  season  among  us.  His  ar- 
dor, quickened  by  more  than  proportionate  success,  knew 
no  relaxation.  He  was  indefatigable  in  acquainting  him- 
self with  every  phase  of  the  disease  in  every  patient,  and 
even  visited  the  infirmarv  between  times  to  mark  the 


DIAEY   OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  229 

progress  of  cure  there.  Having  at  liis  command  a  ve- 
hicle for  his  visits,  it  can  not  be  said  that  physical  ex- 
ertion hastened  his  attack.  It  rather  resulted  from  ex- 
posure to  the  night  air  and  the  unwholesome  odors  that 
hung  around  the  patients.  On  the  morning  after  our 
chat  I  received  a  note  from  a  relative  of  his  advising  of 
his  illness.  From  day  to  day,  the  reports  of  him  being 
favorable,  I  looked  for  his  return  to  usefulness.  To  the 
surprise  of  the  patient  himself — for  he  and  his  physician 
coincided  in  early  convalescence — the  disease  assumed 
suddenly  a  dangerous  type.  His  natural  cheerfulness 
of  disposition  overcame  the  fear  of  death.  He  knew  his 
end  was  near,  and  became  resigned  to  his  fate.  On  the 
fourth  day  of  his  illness  he  rapidly  passed  away. 

The  storied  urn  and  high-capped  monument  mark  to 
gazing  gossipers  the  renown  of  the  son  of  Mars  or  of 
Minerva.  A  far  more  precious  emblem  of  worth  is  pic- 
tured in  the  quivering  tear  that  tells  of  the  full  soul 
brimming  over  w^ith  sadness  for  the  loss  of  one  dearly 
cherished.  It  is  of  thought  and  feeling  eternal.  The 
painful  regrets  from  those  whom  our  physician  had  been 
so  sedulous  to  save  bordered  on  canonization.  Their 
hearts  were  full  of  gratitude  and  love  for  one  who  blend- 
ed the  graces  of  a  polished  exterior  with  professional 
skill  and  a  sympathizing  heart,  which  identified  him 
with  the  family  whose  threshold  he  crossed. 

Like  the  best  of  his  profession,  he  was  unassuming  in 
his  manners,  proud  of  success,  and  grateful  for  the  ac- 
knowledgment. He  was  too  young  a  practitioner  to  be 
known  among  the  old  population ;  but  time,  which 
eventually  discovers  talent  in  any  profession,  promised 
in  him  the  full  fruits  of  renown.  The  humble  and  the 
poor  would  have  pushed  him  to  enviable  notoriety,  as  a 
successful  practice  among  them  has  always  proved  to  be 
its  harbinger.  Talent  is  at  such  a  high  premium  now- 
adays that  the  measure  of  it  in  any  one  is  his  practice. 


280  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

The  world  will  not  allow  the  light  to  be  hid  under  the 
bushel.  Parlor  influence  may  give  an  ephemeral  fash- 
ionable notoriety  to  a  lawyer  or  physician,  but  one  can 
hardly  go  astray  in  his  selection  of  either  if  he  notices 
well  the  docket  of  the  court  or  the  constant  employment 
of  the  phj^sician. 

The  rich  materials  of  a  soul  like  our  friend's,  at  once 
so  manly  and  so  kind,  were  gradually  developed  as  he 
gained  the  confidence  of  his  patients.  As  they  received 
him,  so  did  he  conduct  himself.  His  reservedness  would 
"relax  with  their  opening  confidence,  and,  as  they  became 
convalescent,  a  jest  or  joke,  uttered  with  a  laughter-pro- 
vocative spirit,  caused  them  to  look  eagerly  for  future 
visits.  We  lingered  around  the  sick-bed  together,  where 
I  witnessed  the  good  cheer  his  company  imparted.  I 
here  regret  that,  in  the  exclusion  of  all  names  from  my 
narrative,  I  can  not  mention  his  in  testimony  of  the  re- 
gard in  which  he  was  held,  and  as  a  tribute  due  to  his 
name  and  his  services. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

The  Dead-house. — The  wrong  Corpse. — Our  Clerk. — Music  for  the 
Sick. — Frightened  to  Death. — The  Maskers. 

The  commissary  charged  with  the  removal  of  the 
dead  bodies  from  the  infirmary  was  in  the  habit  of  throw- 
ing wide  open  the  doors  between  the  street  and  the  room 
where  they  were  kept,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  both 
air  and  light.  Morning  after  morning  I  noticed  a  grad- 
ual increase  to  a  curious  crowd,  waiting  to  see  the  dead 
coffined,  until  it  numbered  over  thirty  persons.  From 
the  balcony  above  I  overheard  mutterings  among  them 
against  the  men  employed  for  their  want  of  humanity 
and  decency  in  their  careless  way  of  slinging  the  corpse 
into  the  coffin,  and  in  putting  others  in  regardless  of  the 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  231 

falling  off  of  a  sheet,  whicli  was  always  wrapped  around 
each  when  carried  below.  One  morning,  when  the  carts 
drove  off  with  twelve  or  fourteen  corpses,  hootings  of  dis- 
approbation were  made.  The  morning  following  at  least 
fifty  persons  assembled,  who  were  excited  by  the  rumor 
that  disrespect  was  shown  the  dead.  There  are  some 
occupations  in  their  nature  repulsive,  which  require  a  pe- 
culiar organization.  To  reason  with  men  whose  feelings 
are  blunted  by  such  pursuits,  or  to  expect  them  to  con- 
form to  our  ideas  of  propriety,  is  preposterous.  They 
could  see  nothing  wrong  or  shameful  in  what  they  had 
done.  Fearing  a  demonstration  thereafter,  which  would 
reflect  alike  upon  all,  I  had  the  bodies  put  into  coffins 
immediately  after  death. 

While  on  the  subject  of  corpses,  I  am  reminded  of  an 
incident  about  this  time  which,  though  some  may  smile 
upon  as  a  solemn  joke,  irritated  and  annoyed  me  exceed- 
ingly. It  was  the  duty  of  the  clerk,  when  so  required 
by  the  friends  of  a  patient,  to  give  them  written  notice 
of  the  latter's  death,  that  they  might  assemble  for  his  in- 
terment. To  guard  against  oversight  in  such  an  im- 
portant matter,  he  noted  opposite  the  name  of  the  pa- 
tient the  residence  of  the  friend  applying,  which  he  Was 
sure  to  observe  on  entering  the  death.  One  day  the 
clerk,  feeling  sick,  had  gone  home,  leaving  the  cupper  to 
attend  to  his  duty  for  him  until  the  next  morning.  That 
evening  a  patient  died  who  was  noted  *'  to  be  buried  by 
his  friends."  The  attendant  not  being  instructed  in  this 
particular,  the  corpse  was  coffined  and  taken  away  with 
others  by  the  commissary  early  on  the  morrow.  At  8 
o'clock  the  clerk  returned  to  duty,  and  saw  the  error 
which  had  been  committed.  He  informed  me  of  it,  and 
asked  my  advice  in  the  premises.  I  could  give  him 
none,  but  told  him  he  must  get  out  of  the  scrape  the 
best  way  he  could,  and  notified  him  that,  if  a  complaint 
was  made  of  this  unfeeling  negligence,  I  should  be  forced, 


232  DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

though  reluctan%,  to  discharge  him.  The  day  after  I 
learned  that  he  had  notified  the  friends  of  the  deceased 
that  the  corpse  awaited  their  disposition.  A  mahogany 
cofiin  was  sent  by  them  to  hold  the  respected  remains. 
At  5  o'clock  P.M.  fifteen  or  twenty  persons  attended, 
with  a  hearse  and  carriages,  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  re- 
spect to  their  friend.  The  clerk  in  the  mean  while  had 
placed  in  the  coffin  the  corpse  of  some  stranger,  and  well 
secured  it  down  to  prevent  the  gaze  of  any  who  might 
be  curious  to  look  for  the  last  time  on  him  they  bewail- 
ed. The  name  of  the  dead  who  was  thus  treated  with 
funeral  rites,  while  the  proper  one  lies  roughly  coffined 
in  a  ditch,  the  register  saith  not. 

Ever  after  this  occurrence  the  clerk  was  faithfully 
particular  in  all  he  had  to  do.  When  the  infirmary  was 
opened  he  was  employed  on  the  recommendation  of  an 
associate,  under  whose  nursing  and  care  himself,  wife, 
and  four  children  had  been  safely  carried  through  the 
epidemic.  He  was  born  on  the  Ehine,  fluently  spoke 
French  and  German,  and  was  proficient  in  the  dead  lan- 
guages. His  knowledge  of  English  was  confined  to  a 
few  phrases  which  we  taught  him,  such  as  to  ask  the  pa- 
tient's name,  age,  and  place  of  nativity.  As  nearly  all 
visitors  and  sick  spoke  either  French  or  German,  he  had 
seldom  occasion  to  speak  any  other  language.  When, 
however,  he  did  not  understand  the  English  spoken  to 
him,  he  pointed  to  written  notices  hung  in  the  entry, 
such  as  "No  admittance  to  any  but  city  officials  except 
between  the  hours  of  12  and  1."  The  forty  dollars  per 
month  he  received  was  a  God-send  to  his  delighted  fam- 
ily. Though  he  kept  the  register  in  a  beautiful  German 
text,  and  studied  to  be  correct,  he  made  laughable  errors 
in  Germanizing  English  or  Irish  names.  Curran  was 
Kerchen,  and  Smith  Schmidt.  Here  and  there  he  show- 
ed his  Latinity  by  writing  after  the  names  of  some  ad- 
mitted, ''in  articulo  mortis,''  of  which,  by-the-by,  there 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  233 

were  eleven  wlio  died  before  they  were  placed  in  their 
cots ;  and  when  an  applicant  was  too  low  to  give  his 
real  or  assumed  name,  he  was  entered  pedantically  as 
nomen  ignoium. 

A  company  of  firemen,  headed  by  a  band  of  music 
which  discoursed  lively  airs,  passed  the  infirmary  on  their 
return  from  a  funeral.  I  marked  the  effect  upon  the 
patients.  Those  at  all  susceptible  of  appreciation  from 
convalescence  drank  in  the  sweet  sounds  with  evident 
delight.  One  patient,  who  had  an  incorrigible  habit  of 
sitting  up  in  bed,  to  his  ultimate  injury,  lifted  himself  on 
his  elbows  and  bowed  his  head  in  unison  with  the  time, 
and  expressed  his  entertainment  by  a  ghastly  grin.  To 
many,  whose  only  perfect  senses  were  sight  and  hearing, 
the  music  must  have  called  up  associations  of  health  and 
better  days,  thus  breaking  the  gloom  of  fatal  presenti- 
ments. As  music  not  only  promotes  cheerfulness  and 
elasticity  of  spirits,  but,  according  as  the  chord  is  struck, 
is  soothing  in  its  effects,  it  is  worthy  of  suggestion  in  the 
treatmxcnt  of  mental  hallucination,  and  of  all  conditions 
where  the  nervous  system  is  deranged. 

The  peculiar  bent  of  the  mind  toward  habitual  pur- 
suits or  ruling  passion  is  singularly  exhibited  by  some 
in  a  state  of  delirium.  A  man  who  had  been  a  cobbler 
employed  his  last  moments  in  going  through  the  mo- 
tions of  sewing  an  imaginary  shoe  between  his  knees, 
drawing  out  his  arms  to  the  full  length  where  the  thread 
should  have  been  adjusted.  Another  rapidly  quoted 
verses  from  a  language  foreign  to  his  own,  while  others 
manifested  the  extremes  of  fear  or  anger  at  imaginary 
objects,  using  most  pitiful  lamentations  or  impious  and 
indecent  oaths.  The  former  were  tractable ;  the  latter 
required  to  be  closely  watched  against  violence  to  them- 
selves or  others. 

A  young  Frenchman  of  genteel  appearance  and  ad- 
dress, who  was  convalescent,  determined,  against  all  re- 


234  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

monstrance,  to  leave  the  infirmary  a  day  or  two  before 
it  was  prudent  for  him  to  do  so.  He  had  shaken  hands 
with  us  at  the  door,  and  was  about  getting  into  a  cab, 
when  a  lady  entered  on  a  visit  of  inquiry  for  some  ac- 
quaintance within.  Having  recognized  her,  he  saluted 
her.  She  looked  intently  at  him  for  a  while  to  revive 
her  recollection  of  him.  He  mentioned  his  name.  Upon 
hearing  which,  she  stepped  back  with  a  theatrical  ges- 
ture, placing  both  hands  upon  his  shoulders  to  scrutinize 
him  still  closer.  Astonishment  was  classically  depicted 
on  her  countenance.  "What!  Charles ?  Is  it  real- 
ly you^  Charles  ?  Oh !  my  dear  friend,  you  look  like  a 
corpse."  The  young  man  was  exceedingly  feeble.  Her 
pressure  upon  his  shoulders,  and  the  confirmation  of 
what  we  had  endeavored  to  persuade  him,  clothed  in 
such  frightful  sympathy,  overpowered  his  remaining 
strength.  He  sought  a  chair  near  to  him,  and,  without 
replying  to  her,  sank  upon  it,  gasping  from  ag'tation. 
The  female  was  likewise  shocked  when  she  was  inform- 
ed of  the  likely  effects  of  such  imprudent  language,  and, 
in  continuous  accents  of  self-reproach  and  commiseration 
for  his  state,  walked  up  and  down  the  entry  until  she 
saw  him  carried  uj)  stairs  to  be  replaced  in  the  cot  he 
had  left.  So  finely  strung  is  the  organization  in  con- 
valescence that  any  sudden  excitement  of  mind  is  at- 
tended with  fatal  results.  He  rapidly  sank  that  night, 
and  was  carried  away  by  his  friends  in  the  morning  for 
interment. 

In  the  female  division  were  two  women  near  to  each 
other  who  had  been  acquaintances  before  admission. 
They  were  often  checked  by  the  nurses  for  their  fre- 
quent conversation.  While  engaged  near  them  one  day 
I  overheard  them  commenting  upon  the  feehngs  which 
possessed  them  when  they  visited  this  house  for  a  dance, 
and  those  different  ones  necessarily  imposed  upon  them 
in  their  present  condition.     Their  remarks  were  pithy, 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  235 

and  were  not  immediately  replied  to,  tlie  long  pause  be- 
tween implying  to  me  that  many  more  thoughts  were 
passing  through  their  minds  than  they  gave  utterance  to. 

"Any  how,  Mary,"  said  one,  "I'll  bet  you'll  come  to 
a  ball  here  if  you  once  get  out." 

"  Ah !  Jane,  how  could  you  think  so  of  me  ?  Could 
I  ever  forget  the  dead  people  I  have  seen  here,  and 
wouldn't  their  ghosts  haunt  me  if  I  break  my  vow  to 
Father  L.?" 

There  is  no  such  reformer  as  contrast.  The  painful 
moans  and  sighs  that  filled  the  hours  of  the  night ;  the 
sight  of  disease  in  every  gradation  from  the  furious  on- 
slaught to  quiet  convalescence  or  complete  prostration ; 
the  devotional  preparations  for  another  sphere  of  exist- 
ence, naturally  enough  made  the  visitor  or  invalid  shrink 
within  himself  when  he  dwelt  upon  the  midnight  dis- 
sipations which  he  witnessed  in  the  same  spot  on  former 
occasions ;  for  here  had  been  held  the  orgies  of  ribald 
wassailers,  whose  actions  and  language  mocked  every 
sense  of  virtue  or  decency,  disfiguring  humanity  with  the 
loathsomeness  of  hell.  Here,  where  fiends  gloated  over 
their  harvest  of  impurity,  could  now  be  found  the  tear- 
ful aspirations  of  the  dying  soul  in  communion  with  its 
God.  The  invocation  of  saints  and  angels,  which  now 
dispensed  its  sweet  influence  in  establishing  hope,  was  in 
strange  contrast  to  the  imprecations  and  hate  which  pos- 
sessed the  desperate  fallen  ones  who  once  whirled  through 
the  room  in  a  mad  show  of  merriment. 

This  hall  of  revelry  had  always  been  the  resort  of  the 
lowest  class  in  bestial  indulgence.  The  common  antip- 
athies to  amalgamation  with  people  of  color,  which,  in 
broad  day,  would  bring  a  blush  of  shame  to  the  hardest 
cheek  in  this  latitude,  were,  perhaps  from  that  fact,  more 
fiercely  hugged  here.  It  was  the  crowning  pleasure  to 
the  day's  infamy  of  the  low  gambler,  the  loafer,  and  the 
thief;  and,  if  police  reports  speak  truthfully,  it  was  a 


236  DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN. 

trap  to  catcli  the  villain,  as  well  as  a  rendezvous  to  plot 
mischief  and  murder.    There  are  some  men  who  are  not 
content  to  learn  human  nature  in  all  its  phases  through 
the  anathemas  pronounced  upon  crime,  or  from  the  writ- 
ten experiences  of  others.     These,  fearless  of  losing  rep- 
utation or  life  for  a  sometimes  dangerous  as  well  as 
censurable  curiosity,  push  their  inquiries  and  observa- 
tions through  every  haunt  of  vice ;  but,  clad  in  the  armor 
of  self-control  and  virtue,  pass  all  unscathed,  and  leave 
with  confirmed  disgust.    With  an  earlier  insight  of  such 
resorts,  it  was  not  with  this  intent  that  I  proposed  to  an 
associate  member  a  visit  to  a  dance  which  took  place  in 
the  Globe  three  months  after  the  epidemic  had  disap- 
peared, and  when  the  town  was  full  of  eager  harpies 
and  hungry  harlots.     It  was  a  visit  to  contrast  the  ex- 
tremes of  wild  life  with  the  associations  of  past  misery. 
Being  known  to  the  proprietor,  and  guided  by  him 
through  the  apartments,  which  were  now  filled  with  a 
tumultuous  sound  of  voices,  suffocating  fames  of  heated 
liquor,  and  an  atmosphere  that  dimmed  the  view,  from 
the  dust  which  the  rapid  waltz  raised  from  the  floor,  we 
felt  assured  of  our  safety.     "Without  such  a  protector, 
respectability  unmasked  would  be  the  certain  forerun- 
ner of  disturbance  and  danger.     We  would  have  been 
hustled  out  as  spies  or  dumb  reproachers  of  excesses  we 
would  not  indulge  in.     We  had  not  promenaded  half 
the  length  of  the  room  when  we  were  surrounded  by  a 
motley  crew  of  female  maskers,  addressing  us  by  name, 
who  joked  on  the  use  made  of  certain  jDarts  of  it  and 
other  localities,  which  convinced  me  that  some,  if  not 
all,  had  their  experience  to  prompt  them.    Passing  from 
these,  we  walked  to  the  bar,  which  was  kept  in  the  room 
that  had  been  appropriated  by  us  to  those  in  the  last 
stage  of  black  vomit  or  of  delirium.     Here  we  were  fol- 
lowed by  many  others,  with  quick  ears  to  catch  our  com- 
ments or  remarks.     As  we  complied  with  the  politeness 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  237 

of  the  proprietor  to  drink  with  him,  the  women  contin- 
ued their  jests,  and  inquired  if  we  remembered  who  lay 
in  such  and  such  a  part  of  the  room. 

"Do  you  remember  who  lay  in  a  cot  just  there  T''  said 
one,  as  I  again  entered  the  ball-room,  and  pointing  to 
the  spot. 

"Indeed  I  do  not," I  replied. 

"  You  do  not  remember  the  girl  who  had  one  side  of 
her  head  shaved  to  have  a  poultice  put  upon  a  boil?" 

"  I  have  now  a  faint  recollection,  if  she  remained  long 
sick.     Was  it  you?" 

"  It  was,  and  I  am  now  entirely  well.  I  used  to  come 
to  these  balls  frequently  years  back;  but  I  resolved, 
after  being  sick  here,  never  to  enter  the  place  again.  I 
came,  though,  to-night,  not  to  dance  or  to  amuse  myself, 
but  to  see  the  place  I  suffered  so  much  in ;  to  see  peo- 
ple dancing  where  I  have  prayed,  and  where  I  have 
seen  so  much  misery ;  and  I  came  here  to  confirm  me 
stronger  in  my  reform  and  in  my  hate." 

"  You  are,  then,  the  girl  who  made  a  vow  on  leaving 
the  infirmary  never  to  enter  this  room  again  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  expect  it  is  the  one  who  lay  in  a  cot 
beside  me — the  one  whom  you  heard  bet  that  she  would 
not  come  here  again." 

"Has  she?" 

"I  fear  she  has,  for  we  were  to  have  seen  each  other 
frequently ;  but,  being  unable  to  find  a  place,  as  I  have 
done,  she  suspended  her  visits  to  me,  and  intimated  on 
parting  that,  to  pay  her  board,  she  had  but  one  resort. 
But  come,  sir.  The  sight  of  you  to-night  is  to  me  as  if 
God  sent  you  to  keep  me  in  the  right  path.  Come,  sir, 
and  let  me  thank  you,  and  drink  to  your  health  in  a 
glass  of  wine.     Do  me  this  favor ;  come." 

We  all  returned  to  the  bar.  By  this  time  the  scowl- 
ing looks  of  men  who  knew  not  of  us  or  of  our  intents, 
and  who  could  not  conjecture  the  extraordinary  atten- 


238  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

tion  paid  to  us  by  the  female  maskers,  gave  us  some  ap- 
prehensions of  a  disturbance  from  a  prolonged  stay. 
Quietly  complying  with  the  grateful  compliment  of  the 
reformed  one,  we  passed  rapidly  through  the  crowd  of 
dancers. 

The  dark  stains  of  black  vomit  were  yet  perceptible 
on  the  floors.  I  missed,  though,  the  marks  of  spittle 
which  blackened  the  walls,  and  which  nothing  short  of 
frequent  whitewashing  could  entirely  obliterate,  when 
we  vacated  the  house. 

As  is  my  wont,  I  do  not  intrude  myself  upon  the  notice 
or  acknowledgment  of  a  patient  after  the  relief  has  been 
complete.  Jane  or  others  may  assume  it  to  be  haughti- 
ness, or  contradictory  to  the  interest  previously  taken  in 
them.  Their  convictions  do  not  trouble  me  so  much  as 
would  be  the  annoyance  to  me  of  reiterated  thanks  for  a 
service  which  I  have  enjoyed  more  in  fulfilling  than  they 
can  possibly  feel  in  receiving.  I  passed  Jane  weekly, 
for  several  months  after  the  epidemic,  in  company  with 
children  she  had  in  charge,  when  a  look  of  recognition 
— nothing  more — was  exchanged.  One  Sunday  morn- 
ing she  met  me  in  the  market,  and,  stopping  me,  intro- 
duced me  to  a  young  man,  whose  arm  she  had,  as  her 
husband,  at  the  same  time  making  a  complimentary  re- 
mark of  me.  I  have  no  doubt  she  was  much  surprised 
afterward  to  meet  with  an  averted  look  whenever  we 
met.  The  recent  epidemic  of  1858  again  brought  me  to 
her  rescue  from  want,  which  service  may  have  altered 
her  previous  conclusions,  but  leaves  her  still  in  ignorance 
of  the  cause  of  my  indifference  to  her  when  established 
in  health. 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  239 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Les  Gardes  Malades. — The  C.  Family. — Gamblers  and  Gambling. 

"With  all  the  remedial  agents  which,  wealth  can  com- 
mand for  the  comfort  of  the  yellow-fever  patient,  direct- 
ed by  the  most  skillful  practitioner,  the  issue  hangs  by 
a  thread  unless  a  discreet  and  experienced  nurse  is  in 
attendance.  The  faultless  administering  of  the  physi- 
cian's prescriptions ;  a  watchful  attention  to  the  appa- 
rently simple  wants  and  necessities  of  the  patient ;  the 
studied  corrective  resistance  to  a  sudden  change  in  the 
atmosphere  or  to  a  fluctuation  of  pulse,  are  among  the 
most  prominent  reliant  assurances  of  success.  A  slight 
omission  or  disregard  of  either  has  baffled  the  calculation 
of  the  most  experienced  physician,  and  diverted  him  in 
his  after  remedial  appliances.  For  many  years,  during 
epidemics,  I  have  had  at  my  bidding  several  colored 
nurses,  whose  assiduous  care  of  the  sick  has  been  mark- 
edly successful.  When  my  sympathies  were  strongly 
roused  to  save  for  society  the  useful  or  intelligent,  I  have 
invariably  employed  one  of  these  either  to  nurse  the 
case  through  or  superintend  a  less  experienced  one.  In 
fact,  so  much  more  is  required  of  a  nurse  in  yellow  fever 
than  in  other  diseases,  that  the  attendance  of  an  experi- 
enced one  is  a  better  guarantee  of  early  convalescence 
than  even  the  frequent  visits  of  the  physician.  Their 
services  are  properly  estimated  by  the  handsome  remu- 
neration of  as  high  as  ten  dollars  per  day. 

Their  passion  for  usefulness  is  accompanied,  too,  with 
a  love  for  gossip  and  anecdote,  which,  timely  indulged  in, 
is  extremely  agreeable  to  the  convalescent.  Their  knowl- 
edge of  the  condition  and  standing  of  the  resident  pop- 


240  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Illation  is  always  reliable.  Their  suspicion  of  tlie  status 
of  any  is  the  shadow  of  coming  developments.  The 
greater  number  of  these  are  free  and  intelligent,  rarely 
associating  with  slaves — indeed,  heartily  despising  those 
who  are  not  ''smart  enough,"  hke  themselves,  to  pur- 
chase their  freedom.  Though  they  are  exorbitant  in 
their  demands  as  nurses,  when  their  feehngs  are  en- 
listed by  the  respectability  of  an  applicant  unable  to 
pay,  their  services  are  given  gratuitously.  To  every 
confidence  they  are  faithful.  To  me  they  have  been  of 
especial  service  in  preventing  and  discovering  imposi- 
tions on  the  association  which  otherwise  would  have 
succeeded  with  specious  grace.  I  found,  on  close  exam- 
ination of  their  reports,  that  their  assembled  wisdom 
rarely  failed  to  fathom  the  truth  from  more  than  mani- 
fest inferences. 

At  noon  on  the  20th  of  August,  one  of  these,  whom  I 
shall  present  as  Eugenia,  called  upon  me  to  say  that  in 
an  adjoining  house  to  that  of  a  patient  she  was  attend- 
ing lived  a  lady  with  a  very  sick  child,  who  requested 
her  to  carry  a  message  to  me  to  visit  her.  She  said  the 
lady  had  two  slaves,  appeared  to  be  in  good  circum- 
stances, and  was  married,  she  supposed,  to  a  gentleman 
who  left  the  house  every  day  at  noon,  not  returning 
during  the  day.  She  did  not  know  what  the  lady  want- 
ed, but  cautioned  me  against  imposition  in  the  matter, 
for  she  had  diligently  sought  for  particular  information 
of  them,  but  could  elicit  nothing,  either  from  the  serv- 
ants or  neighbors,  to  form  an  opinion  of  their  character, 
and  judged  that  the  former  had  been  properly  caution- 
ed to  keep  their  counsel.  Having  nothing  imperative 
at  that  moment  to  attend  to,  I  followed  her  to  the  house. 
As  it  were  by  instruction,  Eugenia  opened  the  door 
which  fronted  on  the  street  and  ushered  me  into  the  par- 
lor, w^hen  she  went  to  the  back  room  to  announce  my 
presence  to  the  mistress. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  241 

Tlie  apartment  I  was  in  indicated  comfort  and  com- 
petency. The  furniture  was  of  a  tasteful  selection,  with- 
out being  extravagant  or  pretentious.  On  the  centre- 
table  lay  gilt-edged  books,  surrounding  a  vase  of  mag- 
nolias and  roses,  which  filled  the  atmosphere  with  their 
delicious  fragrancy.  The  caution  of  Eugenia,  though 
considerate,  was  unkind,  as  here  none  could  be  convinced 
or  suspect  that  pecuniary  relief  was  desired  by  the  mis- 
tress of  such  elegant  taste  and  expensive  gratifications. 
While  the  mantle-clock  was  vociferously  ticking  the 
fleeting  seconds,  and  I  was  conjecturing  for  what  pur- 
pose I  was  called  in,  Eugenia  appeared  at  the  door  and 
beckoned  me  to  the  next  room.  The  side  of  a  bed,  with 
ihe  musquito-bar  drawn,  was  within  a  few  steps  of  me. 
A  table  at  the  foot  was  covered  with  phials,  mixtures, 
and  the  paraphernalia  of  a  sick-room.  My  first  impulse 
was  to  lift  the  bar.  As  I  did  so,  I  saw  a  lady  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed,  bending  over  a  child.    "When  she 

recognized  me,  "  Ah !"  said  she,  "  you  are  Mr. ?     I 

am  so  glad  to  see  you.  How  kind  in  you  to  call !  This 
way,"  she  continued,  as  she  left  the  bedside  to  meet  me. 
U^pon  taking  her  outstretched  hand,  I  remarked  that  she 
could  command  my  service,  but  that  I  feared  little  would 
be  accomplished  by  me,  as  I  learned  she  had  a  physi- 
cian, and  as  I  saw  that  she  was  in  a  condition  entirely 
above  the  ordinary  objects  of  our  care. 

''I  know  you  attend  exclusively  to  the  poor  sick," 
she  said.  "You  may  be  of  as  much  service  to  me, 
though,  as  to  them.  I  have  all,  as  you  say,  for  comfort 
apparently,  yet  I  am  poor  in  being  alone  in  the  world, 
knowing  nobody  here,  and  suffering  the  anguish  of  a 
mother  with  an  only  child  at  the  point  of  death.     Let 

me  not  entirely  despair.     Dr. says  he  can  not  live. 

Give  me  some  better  assurance.  For  God's  sake,  save 
him — save  me.     Come  and  look  at  him." 

The  curtain  of  the  windo^  was  drawn  aside  that  a 
L 


242  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

better  view  of  the  little  sufferer  could  be  had.  He  was 
about  five  years  old,  with  long  yellow  hair,  sedulously 
curled.  His  skin  was  hot  and  dry,  and  his  breath  felt 
upon  my  cheeks  as  if  charged  with  volcanic  heat.  I  do 
not  remember  an  adult  whose  breath  was  more  impreg- 
nated with  acidity.  He  was  not  asleep,  but  in  a  stupor, 
regarding  us  through  his  half-closed  eyelids  as  if  he 
doubted  our  presence.  His  mother  aroused  him  by 
smoothing  across  his  forehead  a  cloth  saturated  with 
cold  scented  water,  saying, 

"Horace,  my  dear  son,  don't  you  feel  better  now?" 
"  Oh,  ma,  I  feel  so  sick.     Won't  you  give  me  some- 
thing, ma?" 

"  My  dear  child,  what  can  I  give  you  ?  another  spoon- 
ful of  your  sirup  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  it  is  so  nasty.  Won't  pa  come  home  soon  ?" 
If  the  reader  has  witnessed  Miss  Heron,  as  Camille, 
depict  the  agony  of  a  contemplated  separation  from  Ar- 
mand  at  the  entreaty  of  his  father,  he  can  better  imagine 
than  I  can  describe  the  effort  to  suppress  emotions  which 
seemed  to  tap  the  very  heart  of  its  life-blood.  The  pain- 
ful contraction  of  the  brow,  the  closed  eyes,  the  com- 
pressed lips,  and  hands  clasped  on  the  forehead  as  if  she 
feared  her  reason  would  be  unseated,  told  of  some  mys- 
tery hidden  under  these  last  words  of  her  child  which 
tears  might  relieve  if  they  could  be  bidden.  With  a 
convulsive  quivering  of  the  head  and  a  long,  deep  sigh, 
she  struggled  with  her  feelings,  and,  turning  suddenly 
from  me,  dropped  on  a  cushioned  stool  by  the  bedside. 
I  seated  myself  and  waited  several  minutes  for  her  to 
break  the  silence.  I  at  last  remarked  to  her  that  Eu- 
genia should  divide  her  time  between  the  jDatient  next 
door  and  her  boy.  She  replied  that  a  nurse  would  be 
in  her  way,  as  she  would  not  leave  the  side  of  her  son 
while  he  was  sick.  "I  am  distressed,  sir,"  she  contin- 
ued, "  for  him,  to  be  sure ;  but  this  is  not  all.     There  is 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  243 

yet  sometliing,  wliicli  is  almost  as  great  as  this  affliction, 
whicli  oppresses  me.  I  ask  a  relief  which  will  be  strange 
to  you  to  grant,  and  which  is  as  important  to  my  poor 
boy's  recovery  as  it  is  to  my  future  peace  and  happiness. 
Will  you  please  to  listen  to  me?" 

I  nodded  acquiescence.  After  again  cooling  the  fe- 
verish brow  of  her  child,  she  thus  delivered  herself,  hes- 
itating between  each  sentence  as  if  to  secure  attention 
and  to  make  her  revelations  more  distinct. 

"I  shall  be  brief,  sir,  and  explicit.  I  am  the  loife  of 
one  whose  whole  soul  is  enlisted  in  the  idle  indulgence 
of  play.  We  are  both  of  respectable  parentage  in  Ten- 
nessee. I  had  pledged  my  affections  to  my  husband 
long  before  I  knew  of  his  habits,  and,  when  I  surprised 
him  by  questioning  the  fact,  in  the  true  nobleness  of  his 
nature  he  begged  me  not  to  think  of  him  more — to  strive 
to  forget  him ;  for,  as  sure  as  he  knew  himself,  he  was 
certain  that  the  inveteracy  of  his  passion  for  play  would 
ruin  both  him  and  me.  My  woman's  nature  for  an 
early  love,  my  devotion  to  a  man  who  was  otherwise 
honorable  before  the  world,  my  appreciation  of  senti- 
ments which  had  often  fallen  from  his  lips  and  made  me 
proud  of  the  soul  that  gave  them  birth,  overcame  all 
consequences  from  being  the  companion  of  his  fate. 
Ay,  as  I  loved  him,  my  fancy  pictured  the  joy  of  re- 
covering him.  We  married.  As  an  earnest  of  reform- 
ation, after  a  bridal  tour  of  a  few  months  he  opened  an 
office  for  the  pursuit  of  his  profession.  His  impatient 
spirit  could  not  brook  the  tardy  patronage  of  the  law, 
and  in  a  village  where  oppression  and  strife  had  no  foot- 
hold. He  determined  to  accept  my  father's  proposition 
to  engage  in  farming.  The  means  he  could  command, 
with  mine,  would  purchase  us  just  such  a  farm  as  we 
wanted.  Day  after  day  it  was  talked  over,  but  nothing 
conclusive.  In  the  mean  time,  I  gloried  in  being  able 
to  wean  him  from  his  old  habit.     One  evening  I  was 


24-i  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAlSr. 

anxiously  awaiting  his  return,  as  lie  liad  been  absent  for 
the  first  time  so  long  after  dinner,  when  my  father  en- 
tered my  room,  and,  seeing  me  in  tears,  inquired  the 
cause.  He  misinterpreted  my  fears  of  my  husband's 
old  passion  into  an  alarm  for  his  safety,  and  forthwith 
set  out  to  engage  a  neighbor  to  hunt  up  the  absent  one. 
They  traced  my  husband  to  a  tavern  some  miles  distant, 
where,  unobserved,  they  perceived  him,  surrounded  by 
strange  faces,  betting  on  cards.  They  returned,  and  my 
father  sorrowfully  informed  me  of  the  fact.  He  had 
known,  however,  so  little  of  my  husband's  habits  that  he 
expressed  himself  satisfied  that  it  could  only  be  a  frolic, 
of  which  he  would  repent  at  leisure.  After  a  harrow- 
ing watchfulness  until  midnight,  I  heard  his  footsteps  as 
he  approached  the  room.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
refrain  from  reproaches.  I  knew  him  so  well  that  I  was 
satisfied  that  submission  to  his  pleasure  was  the  greatest 
earnest  I  had  for  a  reformation  in  him. 

''When  he  entered  the  room  he  threw  down  his  coat 
in  a  careless  manner,  and  feelingly  reprimanded  me  for 
sitting  up  so  late  for  him,  while  he,  as  he  said,  was  mere- 
ly enjoying  himself  with  some  old  friends.  I  inferred 
that,  at  any  rate,  he  was  not  a  loser  by  his  indulgence. 
After  breakfast  the  next  morning  he  proposed  a  walk  in 
the  grove  near  the  house.  There  he  confessed  to  me 
that  he  had  heard  of  the  arrival  of  some  gamblers,  and, 
full  of  his  former  infatuation,  he  stifled  all  better  reflec- 
tions and  hurried  to  meet  them.  They  loaned  him  mon- 
ey to  bet,  and -closed  the  game  only  when  they  thought 
he  was  so  much  involved  that  he  could  pay  no  more. 
On  that  night  one  half  of  my  dowry  had  been  pledged 
and  lost.  "When  all  this  was  confessed,  as  much  as  I 
might  have  dreaded  poverty,  so  much  was  I  wrapped  in 
his  fate,  his  happiness  and  honor  were  uppermost.  I 
had  yet  hopes  of  his  reformation,  and  was  glad  to  show 
him  my  magnanimity.     I  did  not  upbraid,  but  told  him 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN-.  245 

we  could  easily  spare  tlie  amount.  That  day  lie  inform- 
ed my  father  that  he  would  part  from  him  the  next,  and 
settle  in  New  Orleans,  where  he  intended  to  establish 
himself  My  dowry  was  paid  over,  the  gamblers  satis- 
fied, and  we  started  for  this  city.  All  this  may  be  nec- 
essary to  state  to  you,  that  I  may  command  your  con- 
fidence and  assistance." 

She  arose  from  her  seat,  and,  after  arranging  the  bed- 
clothes around  her  restless  child,  she  relieved  herself 
from  the  exhaustion  of  this  hurried  narrative  by  a  glass 
of  iced  water.  For  a  few  moments  she  stood  before  me, 
with  intent  gaze  upon  the  floor,  as  if  combating  with 
some  reproachful  idea  that  possessed  her,  when  she  con- 
tinued : 

"I  may  as  well  go  on  now  and  tell  the  whole.  Yon 
are  a  gentleman,  and  will  too  well  appreciate  my  mo- 
tives for  such  disclosure  to  despise  me  for  the  act.  And 
now  for  what  I  mainly  desired  your  counsel  and  assist- 
ance. You  have  concluded  that  my  husband  is  hope- 
lessly lost  in  gambling.  I  feel  it  and  I  know  it.  This, 
though,  to  his  credit,  I  must  tell  you,  that  if  he  hugs  the 
vice,  he  despises  the  rude  association  with  gamblers  as 
he  does  his  own  infatuation  by  it.  To  its  alluring  hopes 
through  their  ministry  he  daily  bewails  his  loss  of  self- 
respect.  He  found  himself  in  the  Maelstrom  of  its  bit- 
ter end,  but  preserved  intact  all  other  ennobling  traits ; 
among  these,  a  devotion  and  love  to  myself  and  child 
that  more  than  divided  his  thoughts  with  his  passion. 
Some  incidents  lately,  however,  have  made  me  suspicious 
that  the  world  in  which  I  live — for  this  my  house  is  the 
limit  of  it — is  invaded.  When  he  comes  home  he  is  not 
as  communicable  as  he  was  wont.  His  endearing  ex- 
pressions have  subsided  into  commonplace.  Our  little 
boy,  who  was  the  life  of  every  hour  that  he  spared  at 
home  from  his  play,  ceased  to  make  his  prattle  forgetful 
of  our  bitter  existence ;  and  now,  that  our  child  is  pros- 


246  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

trated  bj  a  fatal  sickness,  when  I  should  most  expect 
that  a  sacrifice  of  other  objects  should  bring  him  home, 
his  stay  with  us  has  diminished.  I  can  come  to  no  oth- 
er conclusion  than  that  some  one  else  possesses  his  af- 
fections, or  that  I  have  lost  them.  To  be  sure,  he  shows 
anxiety  for  our  son  by  inquiries  of  the  physician,  whom 
he  meets  elsewhere,  and  reports  to  me  the  conference. 
He  even  sits  by  his  bedside  with  the  hand  of  Horace 
clasped  in  his,  but  not  a  word  to  me — not  one  word. 
As  he  was  about  to  depart  this  morning,  not  to  return 
again  until  midnight,  I  remarked  to  him  how  miserable 
we  should  surely  be  if  Horace  were  to  die.  With  an 
oath,  accompanied  by  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  and  such  a 
look  of  despair  or  hate,  I  dare  not  say  which,  he  mutter- 
ed through  his  teeth,  '  It  were  better,  then,  that  you  fol- 
low him,'  and  left  the  room  precipitately.  Xow,  sir,  if  it 
is  not  impertinent  in  one  who  feels  she  stands  almost 
alone,  can  I  rest  on  your  confidence  and  advice  ?  Can 
you  say  or  do  any  thing  to  relieve  me,  either  to  dispel 
my  suspicions  or  to  bring  my  husband  home  to  my  af- 
fections ?" 

I  saw  she  had  finished,  and  hazarded  to  withdraw  my 
eyes  from  the  wall,  upon  which  they  were  fixed  during 
the  recital.  Tears  happily  came  to  her  relief,  and  rolled 
from  her  eyes  unaccompanied  by  a  sob  or  moan.  Per- 
haps she  was  mastering  herself  for  some  comfort  she  ex- 
pected from  me  in  reply.  My  conclusions  were  rapidly 
drawn.  Had  I  not  been  in  a  sick-room,  the  smile  of  in- 
credulity that  partially  displayed  itself  on  my  counte- 
nance would  have  swelled  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  would 
have  better  convinced  her  of  the  sincerity  of  my  cona- 
tion than  I  could  b^^  reasoning  with  her.  As  it  was,  I 
told  her  that  imaginary  evils  alone  possessed  her ;  that 
she  must  allow  her  husband  to  be  affected  by  such  a 
prospect  as  she  had  depicted  to  him  of  her  son's  death 
in  a  different  manner  from  her.     I  concluded  by  saying 


niAKY  OF  A  SAMAKITAK  247 

that  her  long  experience  of  his  heart,  their  mntiial  ar- 
dent affection,  their  fixedness  of  interest  in  one  fate,  and 
entire  exclusion  of  participants  in  feeling  or  friendship 
for  so  long  a  period,  forbade  any  such  suspicions,  that,  like 
bats,  brooded  through  the  darkness  of  her  sad  visitation. 
"  Besides,"  I  continued,  "  how  much  good  soever  may  be 
produced  by  my  investigation,  you  are  proposing  to  me 
a  dangerous  and  disgraceful  service.  To  be  a  spy  upon 
your  husband  in  such  a  research  would  be  infamous." 

"I  do  not  desire  you,"  she  said,  "to  do  any  thing 
which  will  compromise  your  honor  or  your  safety.  I 
merely  want  to  be  relieved  from  suspicions  which  rack 
my  brain  by  night  and  by  day,  and  which  sometimes 
even  make  me  forget  that  I  am  in  the  presence  of  my 
sick  child.  The  result  of  your  simple  observation  of 
him — a  few  carelessly  spoken  words  from  his  lips — may 
remove  them  all.  I  wish  to  believe  my  suspicions  un- 
founded, for  I  could  not  survive  his  infidelity.  I  will 
tell  you  where  he  frequents.  He  tells  me  it  is  not  a  pub- 
lic gambling-house,  but  a  club  resorted  to  by  gentlemen 
high  in  the  esteem  of  the  world.  You  could  easily  make 
his  acquaintance,  and  could,  without  suspicion,  inquire 
if  those  hours  of  stay  from  home  are  passed  there.  If 
he  could  be  drawn  out  in  a  conversation  to  satisfy  you 
that  his  affections  are  not  elsewhere,  you  will  afford  me 
a  happiness  that  I  shall  never  too  highly  appreciate. 
Do  not  refuse  me.  My  life  hangs  upon  my  peace  of 
mind  in  this  respect." 

My  resolve  was  made,  and,  having  learned  the  local- 
ity of  the  club,  I  took  her  hand  and  assured  her  that  I 
would  do  my  best.  As  I  was  leaving  the  room  she 
cautioned  me  to  visit  her  in  the  afternoon  only,  and 
then  to  open  the  street  door  without  knocking,  so  that 
her  husband  should  know  nothing  from  the  servants  of 
my  visit  to  raise  his  suspicion  of  her  honesty. 

Here  was  a  pretty  commission — to  hunt  out  a  gam- 


248  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

bier's  amours.  "Well,"  thought  I,  ''this  is  making  of  us 
physicians  to  the  mind  diseased  with  a  vengeance."  The 
more  I  reflected  upon  the  novelty  of  the  application,  the 
more  I  reasoned  myself  into  its  consistency  with  honor 
and  propriety.  Besides,  the  adventure  promised  an 
agreeable  relief  from  other  duties. 

The  frequent  indulgence  in  any  sin  or  vice  grows  into 
a  passion  which  absorbs  the  entire  thoughts  of  its  vic- 
tim. Like  to  the  willing  sojourner  under  the  upas 
shade  of  filthy  and  criminal  infatuations,  who  becomes 
dead  to  all  sense  of  nobility  and  decency,  the  devotee  of 
gambling  stifles  within  him  every  corrective  impulse. 
Her  handmaid  intemperance  is  not  now  indispensable 
to  palliate  the  insanity  of  rushing  to  ruin^  or  to  excuse 
the  forgetfulness  of  virtue.  Though  the  victim  has  suf- 
fered in  estate  and  mind,  and  would  fain  withdraw, 
by  the  extinction  of  every  other  passion  he  is  forced 
back  to  his  confirmed  habit.  To  its  indulgence  he  now 
even  sacrifices  his  wife  and  children  to  the  inheritance 
of  shame,  and,  with  an  infatuation  like  to  the  holy  zeal 
of  the  worshipers  of  Juggernaut,  he  lays  down  his  bro- 
ken spirit  and  ruined  fortunes  in  despair  under  the  char- 
iot-wheels of  his  pitiless  and  false  god.  Examples  are 
around  us  of  many  such,  and  you  might  as  well  essay  to 
change  the  spots  on  a  leopard's  skin  as  to  eradicate  the 
desire  or  dispel  the  vice  that  is  in  them  by  reason. 
Chiding  is  insult.  The  reformation  must  come  from 
some  providential  interference — from  some  unexpected 
turn  in  their  afiairs. 

From  all  I  could  understand,  he  whom  I  now  sought 
was  in  this  category.  He  was  the  willing  slave  to  gam- 
bling— he  was  not  of  its  priesthood.  Some  great  calam- 
ity, or  the  prospect  of  it — his  utter  ruin,  perhaps — would 
alone  change  the  direction  of  his  bent.  I  knew  of  a 
man,  an  honest,  hard-working  mechanic,  whose  only 
weakness  was  an  occasional  investment  in  lottery-tick- 


DIARY   OF  A   SAMAEITAK.  249 

ets.  He  had  the  fortune  to  win  a  prize  of  several  thou- 
sand dollars.  Having  lived  to  maturity  with  all  his 
wants  satisfied  by  his  manual  labor,  his  head  became 
turned  with  the  excitement  of  sudden  independence. 
For  months  his  shop  was  deserted.  In  the  mean  time, 
he  fell  in  with  associates  who  helped  him  to  pass  the 
days  and  nights  fleetingly  and  agreeably.  He  shortly 
sickened  of  dissipation,  and  tried  again  to  work ;  but  the 
money  which  was  acquired  so  easily  burned  in  his  hands. 
He  again  flung  down  his  work,  and  in  a  rapid  succession 
of  extravagances  got  rid  of  all.  Labor  was  again  sweet 
in  its  return  to  him.  Again  he  invested  in  a  lottery, 
and  with  a  similar  fortunate  result.  This  time  he  gave 
it  all  away  to  his  poorer  relations,  and  avoided  ever  aft- 
er the  temptation  of  Fortune's  wheel,  that  he  might  bet- 
ter enjoy  the  fruits  of  honest  labor.  Thus  it  is  that  ex- 
tremes meet.  There  are  as  many  who  lack  philosophy 
to  bear  adversity  as  there  are  those  wanting  in  common 
sense  to  keep  them  within  propriety  under  a  sudden  el- 
evation of  fortune.  On  my  way  to  the  club-house  I  fell 
in  with  an  acquaintance,  who  happily  possessed  informa- 
tion of  its  rules  and  visitors.  I  ventured  to  ask  him  if 
he  knew  Mr.  C.  He  gave  me  the  most  prepossessing 
account  of  him.  He  said  that  he  was  recognized  as  a 
perfect  gentleman  by  all  who  had  intercourse  with  him ; 
that  he  lost,  to  be  sure,  but  with  the  grace  of  a  man 
of  fortune.  Cheerfulness  and  an  easy  wit  were  his  mark- 
ed characteristics.  Furnished  with  this  information  and 
an  unmistakable  description  of  his  person,  I  ventured  to 
demand  admission  at  the  club  door.  This  club  was  not 
organized  as  are  the  present  ones,  which  deny  admission 
to  all  except  subscribers  or  their  stranger  guests.  The 
proprietor  exercised  the  privilege  of  dismissing  any  one 
from  his  doors  of  whom  he  had  any  suspicion  of  ability 
to  meet  their  obligations  or  disposition  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance.     He  particularly  excluded  the  professional 

L2 


250  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

gambler.     It  seems  that  lie  I  sought  was  not  considered 
as  such.     The  proprietor  in  welcome  tones  ushered  me 
into  the  rooms.     Mj  presence  did  not  disturb  any  of  the 
parties  that  surrounded  the  five  or  six  round  tables.    It 
was  only  after  some  minutes  of  observation  of  the  game 
at  one  table  that  my  name  was  called  aloud  by  an  ac- 
quaintance, and  I  found,  as  a  new-comer,  that  all  eyes, 
for  the  nonce,  were  upon  me.     At  one  table  a  seat  was 
vacant,  which  I  was  requested  to  take.     Seeing  there 
several  acquaintances,  I  sat  down,  and,  being  supplied 
with  the  customary  counters  for  the  game,  in  a  short 
time  I  found  myself  in  the  vortex  of  its  excitement  and 
interest.     I  discovered  after  a  few  deals,  by  the  descrip- 
tion of  Mr.  C,  that  he  sat  at  my  side.     As  no  introduc- 
tion was  given  to  me,  I  ventured  an  occasional  remark 
to  him.     Card-playing,  like  cock-fighting  or  racing,  is  a 
leveler  of  distinction.     Community  of  interest  in  a  spe- 
cial vice  places  all  the  sinners  on  an  equality  and  loving 
brotherhood.     This,  I  suppose,  naturally  proceeds  from 
the  ignoring,  for  the  time  being,  of  every  principle  of 
virtue,  morality,  and  good-breeding,  that  the  vice  which 
is  uppermost  may  be  enjoyed  with  abandon  and  without 
shame.     I  remained  at  the  game,  holding  my  own,  as 
the  phrase  is,  until  supper  was  announced.     There  the 
company  mixed.     I  took  particular  care  to  be  seated  be- 
side Mr.  C.     Every  variety  of  conversation  was  intro- 
duced except  on  the  topic  of  gambling.     Appetite  was 
satiated  with  the  choicest  viands,  while  excellent  claret 
and  Champagne  made  the  winners  witty  and  the  losers 
relax  the  severity  of  their  brows.     It  was  at  the  close 
of  this  prolonged  feast — for  no  hurry  was  manifested — 
that  I  caught  Mr.  C.  giving  some  account  of  his  early 
life  and  experience  at  jDlay  in  the  form  of  anecdote.    Had 
I  not  known  that  he  was  entirely  and  ruinously  addict- 
ed to  his  passion,  I  should  have  mistaken  him  for  a  sat- 
irist on  human  frailty,  or  an  incurable  searcher  after  the 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  251 

bitter  experiences  of  life,  for  tlie  sake  of  the  consolation 
they  gave  him  by  discovering  in  others  what  he  thank- 
ed God  he  did  not  possess.  Something  in  connection 
with  the  subject  brought  a  remark  from  me.  We  touch- 
ed glasses,  and  he  addressed  himself  to  me  exclusively. 
Learning  who  I  was,  and  having  also  heard  of  my  visits 
to  the  sick,  the  conversation  took  the  turn  upon  the  epi- 
demic. He  had  been  fortunate  to  escape  from  it,  and 
attributed  the  fact  to  the  excitements  which  engaged 
him.  He  had  a  confirmed  belief  that  the  mind  can  pre- 
vent the  susceptibility  to  an  epidemic  disease,  as  that  it 
invited  it.  He  pronounced  yellow  fever  and  cholera  to 
be  nothing  more  than  the  effects  of  nervous  fever,  some- 
thing on  the  principle  that,  if  you  don't  know  a  danger, 
there  is  none.  Playful  remarks  were  more  in  keeping 
at  a  supper  like  this  than  argument,  so  that,  without 
combating  his  assumption,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  not  a 
family.  At  once  he  eyed  me  inquiringly.  I  excused 
myself  by  saying  that,  if  he  had,  his  doctrine  would  be 
confirmed  by  none  of  them  getting  sick.  His  eyes,  at 
this  remark,  dropped.  Slowly  he  advanced  his  glass  to 
his  lips,  and  appeared  in  deep  thought.    "  Do  you  know," 

said  he,  "  any  thing  of  the  reputation  of  Dr. ?"     I 

assured  him  it  was  good.  "Is  he  successful  with  chil- 
dren?" "More  so,"  I  replied,  "than  the  majority;  but 
why  do  you  ask?"  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  sir,  I  have 
a  child  who  is  sick — very  sick.  He  is  the  life  of  my 
thoughts,  and  it  so  maddens  me,  the  idea  of  losing  him, 
that  I  fly  from  home  to  avoid  dwelling  upon  it.  I  should 
be  pleased  if  you  would  call  before  ten  to-morrow  to 
give  me  your  opinion  of  him."  This  I  promised  to  do. 
I  was  now  fully  satisfied  that  I  could  convey  the  most 
cheering  satisfaction  to  the  wife  of  her  husband's  fidel- 
ity. 

The  next  afternoon  I  called  to  see  the  jealous  wife. 
She  met  me  with  a  smile,  and  said  her  husband  was  dis- 


252  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN". 

appointed  that  I  did  not  call  in  the  morning,  as  I  had 
promised.  I  told  her  I  was  afraid  of  a  contretemps 
which  would  have  exposed  my  agency  in  discovering 
what  I  had  now  to  announce.  I  detailed  our  whole 
conversation  and  his  manner.  I  assured  her  that  future 
developments  would  prove  that  the  strong  love  she  bore 
him  and  the  child  was  the  only  cause  for  her  suspicions. 
I  took  the  liberty,  though,  to  tell  her  that  she  had  a  more 
formidable  rival  than  a  woman — a  rival  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  be  divorced  from  when  once  it  surrounds  its  vic- 
tim. I  told  her  that  the  excitement  of  play  is  of  such 
soul-engrossing  character  that  its  devotee  loses  thought 
of  every  thing  else.  Wife  and  children,  health,  friend- 
ship, and  honor,  are  sacrificed  at  its  shrine. 

"But,"  said  she,  "he  is  not  a  professional  gambler. 
He  does  not  live  by  it.  On  the  contrary,  his  losses  are 
greater  than  his  gains.  Play  is  his  passion  and  his  ^^as- 
time,  but  he  would  scorn  to  inveigle  another  to  play,  or 
to  be  called  a  gambler.  I  yet  hope  for  his  reformation 
through  the  agency  of  that  silent,  yet  correcting  and 
maddening  monitor,  the  loss  of  all  whereby  to  support 
his  indulgence.  Then  the  necessity  to  provide  for  the 
sustenance  of  myself  and  child  will  stare  him  forcibly  in 
the  face.  We  will  begin  the  world  for  ourselves.  We 
are  both  young,  and  the  hard  earnings  of  industry  will 
be  sweetened  by  domestic  happiness.  I  thank  you  for 
the  kindness  of  your  interposition — for  the  peace  of 
mind  which  you  have  given  me  by  your  observations." 

To  say  that  the  tear  which  glistened  in  her  eye  met 
not  full  sympathy  from  me  would  dash  the  joy  that  a 
simple  act  created.  Volumes  of  thought  bearing  on  her 
condition  engrossed  my  mind  for  many  days  after,  and 
the  interest  created  for  the  fulfillment  of  her  hope  re- 
tained me  an  unobserved  watcher  of  their  future.  On 
my  way  home,  the  reflection  intruded  itself  of  how  many 
in  our  community  are  and  have  been  thus  situated. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  253 

Some,  pnrsning  successful!}^  a  like  career  as  his,  under 
the  guise  of  a  profession  or  business,  when,  if  the  society 
that  harbored  them  knew  that  neither  law,  medicine,  or 
business  supported  the  gay  and  expensive  habits — that 
they  have  prostituted  their  honor  to  the  sacrifice  of  the 
happiness  of  many  associates,  who  concealed  from  the 
world  the  cause  of  their  ruin,  they  would  be  thrust  from 
its  portals  with  a  howl  of  shame  and  execration.  It  is  a 
known  fact  that  the  impulsive  character  is  the  most  sus- 
ceptible of  imposition  and  temptation.  Excitement  is 
wedded  to  such  characteristically.  The  cold  and  im- 
passible look  of  the  professional  gambler — of  him  who 
cheats  or  uses  superior  skill  to  entrap  his  victim,  is  a 
reflex  of  his  heart's  callousness.  He  presumes  upon  the 
credulity  of  his  victim,  whose  experience  of  play  is  con- 
fined to  the  social  circle,  where  no  suspicion  of  unfairness 
exists.  He  knows  his  victim  is  ignorant ;  that  in  play- 
ing against  him  the  game  is  not  one  of  chance,  but  of  a 
certainty  so  skillfully  arranged  as  to  delude  the  dupe 
into  the  belief  that,  if  he  had  bet  on  the  card  turned  up, 
he  would  have  won  his  venture.  It  has  been  known  of 
gamblers  that,  after  having  won  all  of  an  individual,  they 
have  proffered  their  sincere  advice  on  the  folly  of  per- 
severing, but  their  disinterestedness  never  leads  them  to 
return  even  a  portion  of  that  which  has  ruined  the  latter. 
Sympathy,  says  he,  love,  friendship,  and  the  world's 
distinctions,  are  the  pastimes  of  fools.  The  evil  eye  of 
the  gambler  sees  in  all  animate  or  inanimate  creation 
merely  objects  of  aggrandizement  and  spoil.  The  argu- 
ment is  advanced  that  they  dissipate  the  money  gained 
from  the  rich,  and  are  thus  useful  to  society  in  one  re- 
spect. What  the  rich  lose,  and  which  the  former  dis- 
tribute in  their  extravagance,  in  measure  of  good  to  so- 
ciety, is  in  no  comparison  to  the  hellish  and  headstrong 
destruction  of  every  hope  and  virtue  caused  to  the  more 
numerous  class  of  victims.     With  all  engaged,  priests 


254  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

and  pimps,  tliey  live  without  God  in  the  world,  forget- 
ting the  end  and  aim  of  existence,  and  with  brazen  face 
defying  shame  in  their  pnrsuit.  There  is  not  in  them  a 
single  redeeming  quality  to  make  good  citizens.  They 
class  lower  than  the  ^^friiges  consumere  natV  of  Yirgil. 

The  hydra  heads  of  corruption,  lust,  gambling,  and  in- 
temperance, are  the  criminal  perversions  of  God's  gifts 
for  man's  happiness  and  solace  upon  earth.  The  first 
sin  is  the  brutalizing  of  the  love  which  nature  has  plant- 
ed in  the  hearts  of  all  its  creatures  for  their  happiness ; 
the  vices  of  gambling  and  intemperance  are  desecrations 
of  the  pastime  and  solace  which  society  countenances  for 
the  promotion  of  cheerfulness  and  sociability.  The 
temptation  to  excess  is  not  natural  or  innate,  but  is  fos- 
tered with  a  serpent's  hiss  from  such  as  have  already 
fallen,  and  he  is  strong  in  resistance  who,  after  the  se- 
duction of  the  first  step,  is  not  blind  to  the  next.  Hap- 
py are  such,  yet  should  they  not  be  vainglorious  in  their 
strength,  nor  reproving  in  their  triumph  and  exemption. 
They  have  to  thank  God  that  they  are  not  thus  tempt- 
ed, and,  instead  of  harshly  judging  the  dereliction,  ad- 
vise and  help  the  fallen  one  from  the  slough  in  which  he 
is  being  lost.  Many  are  brought  to  their  senses  by  a 
respectful  and  considerate  advice,  as  many  are  saved 
from  suicide  by  a  timely  proffered  assistance.  Then  are 
the  uses  of  adversity  sweet  to  the  sufferer,  by  making 
life  appreciated  for  "the  precious  jewel"  of  sympathy  and 
friendship — for  the  humanity  it  stirs  in  his  bosom. 

It  is  no  justification  of  gambling  that,  if  it  were  put 
down  by  the  severe  hand  of  laws  such  as  existed  in  the 
days  of  Mohammed,  and  subsequently,  to  a  late  period, 
throughout  Christendom,  private  gambling  would  be 
more  ruinously  engaged  in.  The  severity  of  the  punish- 
ment would  brand  it  as  ignominious.  It  is  the  winking 
of  justice;  it  is  the  facility  of  indulgence;  it  is  the  con- 
secration of  its  necessity  and  existence  by  the  counte- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAIT.  255 

nance  of  respectable  devotees,  and  tHeir  undisguised  fa- 
miliarity with  its  priests,  that  make  gambling  now  and 
increasingly  dangerous.  No  one  denies  it  to  be  an  evil 
of  threatening  consequences  to  the  happiness  of  families ; 
no  one  doubts  that  an  acme  of  outrage  to  the  laws  and 
society  will  soon  be  reached  by  it ;  that  a  terrible  venge- 
ance will  fall  upon  its  abettors.  It  is  a  melancholy 
prospect  to  draw  the  future  of  our  American  youth. 
Already  the  accumulated  wealth  of  the  sweat  of  the 
brow  of  fond  parents,  anxiously  garnered  for  the  certain 
security  from  poverty  of  their  offspring,  is  lavished  upon 
the  strumpet  and  the  gambler.  The  far  niente  of  the 
Italian,  succeeded  by  all  his  vices  and  effeminacy ;  the 
desperate  passions  of  the  Frenchman,  which  are  at  the 
bottom  of  his  instability  of  character  and  indifference  to 
the  fireside  virtues,  have  found  a  home  in  our  simplici- 
ty. Progress  in  all  that  becomes  a  man  and  independ- 
ence of  character  are  wilting  away  under  the  shameless 
pretense  of  foreign  refinement  and  adoption  of  foreign 
vices.  To  such  an  extent  does  it  now  range,  that  he 
who  can  philosophically  contemplate  the  chances  of  hap- 
piness by  entering  matrimony  with  antiquated  notions 
of  domestic  bliss,  and  an  old  age  of  proud  satisfaction  in 
the  progeny  around  him,  flatters  himself  into  the  posses- 
sion of  a  rare  prize  in  the  lottery  of  life. 

Revenons  d  nos  moutons.  I  gave  it  as  my  impression 
to  Mrs.  C.  that  her  husband  would  only  be  brought  to  a 
show  of  affection  by  extraordinary  gains  or  by  complete 
bankruptcy.  She  was  satisfied  that  he  was  deeply  pain- 
ed at  the  illness  of  their  child ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  I 
watched  and  looked  into  the  progress  of  affairs  between 
them. 

Having  occasion  to  visit  frequently  the  sick  in  her 
neighborhood,  one  morning  as  I  passed  I  met  C.  as  he 
was  coming  from  his  dwelling.  "Ah  ha!"  he  exclaim- 
ed. "  Opportunely  met.  Come  in  and  see  now  what  a 
fine  fellow  you  interested  yourself  for." 


256  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Mrs.  C.  met  me  at  the  door,  but  as  diflferent  in  maimer 
and  spirits  as  the  gloom  of  a  funeral  is  from  the  joy  of 
a  wedding.  What  I  saw  in  her  before — care-worn  ex- 
pression and  timid  confidence — was  now  a  picture  of 
beaming  intelligence  and  the  liveliest  self-]30ssession. 
The  change  in  her  dress  from  that  required  during  her 
bedside  duties  was  charmingly  shown  in  the  graceful 
contour  of  her  figure  under  a  well-fitted  corsage  and  a 
tasteful  arrangement  of  her  hair.  Her  boy  reclined  upon 
the  sofa,  for  he  had  not  yet  strength  to  venture  at  will ; 
and,  as  he  recognized  the  return  of  his  father,  in  a  ring- 
ing, healthy  tone,  so  different  from  the  plaintive  one  I 
had  heard  before,  cried  out,  ''  Pa,  you  did  not  forget  my 
marbles  and  my  drum?" 

Simultaneously  the  parents'  hands  pointed  me  to  their 
son.  They  exchanged  looks.  Delight  suffused  their 
countenances.  A  thrill  of  joy  seemed  to  pervade  them, 
for  I  felt  it  as  if  electrically.  To  enjoy  such  happiness 
is  frequent;  to  witness  and  sympathize  with  it  is  rare. 
I  magnified  my  own  agency  in  producing  it,  and  felt  a 
bliss  I  would  not  have  exchanged  with  theirs.  And 
who  may  not?  To  create  a  happiness  where  none  ex- 
isted before ;  to  dispel  the  weariness  of  a  life  by  placing 
within  grasp  some  of  its  enjoyments,  long  yearned  for; 
to  well  up  from  the  heart  smiles  to  a  face  which  has 
been  stereotyped  by  sadness ;  to  force  into  play  a  sym- 
pathy and  an  affection  where  all  was  bitterness  against 
God  and  creation ;  to  induce  by  all  these  a  foretaste  of 
another  and  a  better  life,  and  make  the  creature  sensi- 
tive to  the  divinity  within  it — all  these  are  luxuries  in 
private  which  the  widest  applause  of  publicity  can  not 
compensate  for  in  its  hollow  honors  of  commendation. 

When  I  retired  with  C.  he  opened  to  me  his  heart  and 
intentions.  With  the  little,  he  said,  that  was  left  of  his 
means,  he  intended  to  economize,  and  forswear  the  ty- 
rant that  had  kept  him  in  a  whirl  of  dangerous  and  un- 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  257 

happy  excitement.  I  had  no  comments  to  make,  but 
saw  that  he  spoke  feelingly  and  resolutely. 

Two  months  after  this,  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  I  was 
strolling  through  the  Place  cVArmes^  when  I  was  accost- 
ed by  a  little  fellow,  gayly  dressed,  and  holding  in  his 
hand  a  bouquet,  which  he  presented  to  me,  saying,  "  Ma 
sent  this  to  you,  and  says  Thank  you."  He  hastily  ran 
back  to  his  mother,  who  was  standing  within  the  palisade 
of  orange  bushes.  A  simple  recognition  from  her  inti- 
mated her  reluctance  to  encourage  an  interview  which 
might  be  discovered  and  misinterpreted  by  her  jealous 
husband.  The  fragrance  from  that  bouquet  had  not  en- 
tirely departed  from  the  drawer  in  which  it  had  been 
placed,  when  one  morning  I  met  Eugenia,  who  told  me 
she  had  been  several  days  engaged  in  packing  up  their 
effects,  to  depart  the  evening  previous.  She  farther  in- 
formed me  that  for  months  Mr.  C.  was  daily  at  home, 
and  that  a  thorough  reformation  had  taken  place  in  him. 
A  letter  from  her  parent,  inviting  them  to  the  possession 
of  a  farm  which  he  had  purchased,  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  their  departure.  Three  years  later  I  encoun- 
tered the  subject  of  this  on  the  street,  who  assured  me 
that  he  had  kept  his  resolution,  and  now  found  sufficient 
excitement  in  his  profession  of  law  at  home. 

It  seems  like  fiction  that  a  man  so  deeply  imbued  with 
a  passion  from  long  indulgence  should  have  suddenly 
halted,  when  he  had  the  means  yet  to  gratify  himself, 
and  no  one  to  chide  him.  The  secret  lay  in  the  wonder- 
ful power  and  foresight  of  that  woman,  who  endured  the 
silence  of  solitariness,  submitting  herself  entirely  to  the 
will  and  pleasure  of  her  husband,  indifferent  to  the  loss 
of  her  dowry,  perhaps  praying  for  its  rapid  exhaustion, 
so  rapt  was  she  in  his  happiness  and  fate,  and  con- 
fident that  a  time  would  come  when  the  sentiments 
he  had  instilled  into  her  mind  of  honor  and  purity  of 
character  would  before  long  develop  themselves  in  him. 


258  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

As  a  sensible  man,  the  moment  reflection  was  induced 
of  his  suffering  wife,  and  of  the  misery  that  hung  over 
him,  like  the  sword  of  Damocles,  from  the  possibility  of 
his  child's  death,  shame  overpowered  his  passion.  Pride 
whispered  to  him,  "Will  you  hurl  affections  that  ap- 
jDroach  the  divine  into  the  selfish  flames  that  are  con- 
suming you?"  Honor  reproached  him  for  entailing 
upon  the  offspring  of  such  a  mother  the  disgrace  of  hav- 
ing his  sins  visited  upon  his  son  ;  and  will  it  be  pushing 
the  point  too  far  to  conclude  that  hoher  emotions,  out- 
side of  the  impulse  of  worldly  considerations,  consum- 
mated the  result  ? 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Inoculation  for  Yellow  Fever. — The  Clergy. — The  veteran  Chififonier. 
— Supposed  Causes  of  Yellov?  Fever. — Cecile. 

I  BELIEVE  that  there  is  no  idea  that  ever  started  up  in 
the  mind  of  a  reasonable  reflecting  man  that  is  not  sus- 
ceptible of  development  in  nature  and  reality.  It  is  the 
whispering  of  truth  which  thus  casts  its  shadow  before. 
Some  inventions  and  discoveries  are  accidental  to  all  ap- 
pearances, yet  we  daily  meet  with  passages  in  old  au- 
thors that  remained  of  hidden  meaning  until  a  later  in- 
vention or  discovery  explained  them.  Many  truths  that 
are  now  patent  to  every  school-boy  were  the  cherished 
monomania  for  years  of  men  who  died  laboring  to  per- 
suade their  fellows  that  they  were  not  proper  subjects 
of  lunacy.  In  the  closet,  by  the  slow  research  of  anoth- 
er, a  future  generation  is  indebted  to  the  successful  de- 
velopment of  the  so-called  lunatic's  idea.  In  medicine 
it  is  generally  known  with  what  pertinacity  the  faculty 
over  the  world  resisted  the  innovation  of  vaccination 
and  anaesthetics.  They  are  now  the  staple,  par  excellence, 
of  the  good  and  of  the  certainties  of  practice. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  259 

Among  the  numerous  modes  for  curing  tlie  inexplica- 
bly caused  yellow  fever  offered  by  studious  enthusiasts 
for  ado|)tion  to  the  association  was  one  which  struck  us 
with  its  singularity.  Of  course,  no  physician  would  ad- 
vocate it,  but  rather  declared  it  absurd  than  jeopardize 
his  reputation  by  countenancing  what  was  diametrically 
opposed  to  his  practice.  It  proposed  no  less  than  to  in- 
oculate the  unacclimated,  and  thus  bring  their  blood  to 
the  condition  of  the  acclimated  without  submitting  to  the 
dangerous  course  of  nature  from  external  influences  or 
natural  causes.  The  Italian  who  presented  this  pro- 
duced certificates  of  successful  practice  in  the  West  In- 
dies, and  indulged  us  with  an  elaborate,  and  to  us  rea- 
sonable exposition  of  its  principles.  The  stamp  of  au- 
thority had  not,  however,  been  |)laced  upon  it  by  any 
medical  review  or  college,  and  we  could  not,  consequent- 
ly, take  the  responsibility  of  encouraging  it.  Finding 
no  encouragement,  he  left  the  city  with  the  heavy  heart 
of  Him  who  lamented  over  Jerusalem  that  she  would  not 
be  saved. 

The  clergy  of  all  denominations  did  honor  to  their 
calling  during  the  epidemics,  and  seemed  proud  of  their 
service,  so  willing  and  assiduous  were  they.  The  ex- 
ceptions were  rare  of  desertion  from  their  post ;  the  ex- 
amples were  numerous  of  martyrdom  to  their  excess  of 
zeal.  So  much  were  they  in  request  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  meet  every  demand  on  their  time.  Some  of  the 
dead  were  buried  without  a  priestly  service ;  others  were 
interred  with  the  funeral  prayers  read  by  a  layman.  It 
was  no  unfrequent  occurrence  for  a  minister  or  priest  to 
be  called  upon  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night  to  smooth 
the  last  hours  of  the  dying,  or  by  kind  sympathy  to  rec- 
oncile the  survivors  to  their  bereavement,  and  comfort 
them  with  the  assurance  that  what  has  been  done  is  by 
the  will  of  God,  "who  doeth  nothing  wrong."  The 
dead  were  rarely  attended  to  the  grave  by  the  minister. 


260  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

The  service  on  tlie  part  of  the  Catholics  was  commonly 
performed  in  their  chapels.  The  one  contiguous  to  the 
grave-yard  on  Eampart  Street  was  a  thronged  receptacle 
of  the  dead  and  their  mourners  during  the  day  until  aft- 
er dark.  Thence  arose  the  mournful  Miserere^  filhng  the 
air  with  its  melancholy  influence,  and  heightening  still 
more  the  universal  despondency  and  sadness.  In  the 
district  I  attended  the  poor  sick  consisted  chiefly  of  the 
emigrant  class,  who  were  generally  of  the  Catholic  per- 
suasion. Mj^  information,  therefore,  of  the  doings  of  any 
other  than  the  clergy  of  that  denomination  is  only  from 
hearsay.  Poor  people  are  generally  religious,  if  not  ob- 
servantly so,  for  religion  with  them  is  hojDC  and  dej^end- 
ence  on  Providence.  They  live  by  the  sweat  of  the 
brow,  while  the  rich  feast  by  the  sweat  of  their  gold. 
When  an  emigrant  places  his  foot  on  his  adopted  soil, 
the  first  imjDulse  is  to  thank  God  for  his  safe  arrival,  the 
second  to  purge  his  soul  of  sin  at  the  confessional.  The 
priest,  next  to  his  God,  is  his  staff  in  adversity  and 
trouble.  His  wants  and  weaknesses  are  laid  bare  to  his 
confessor.  It  is  the  province  of  the  latter  to  comfort, 
encourage,  and  advise ;  and,  where  the  obedience  is  per- 
fect, an  interest  in  the  penitent  is  created,  which  is  un- 
relaxed,  which  increases,  until  the  last  rites  of  religion 
are  administered.  Herein  consists  the  power  of  the 
Catholic  clergy  in  a  superior  degree  to  that  of  other 
sects.  The  poor  of  the  latter  are  not  approached  by 
their  pastor  unless  solicited.  They  dare  not  send  for 
him.  Too  humble  they  think  themselves  to  trespass 
upon  the  time  or  patience  of  one  whose  profound  skill 
in  analj^sis  and  metaphor  echoed  through  the  high-vault- 
ed cupola  to  the  ears  of  such  as  are  alone  educated  to 
appreciate  them.  The  democracy  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
on  the  other  hand,  secures  the  humblest  member  from 
feeling  his  insignificance.  This  fact  is  patent  to  every 
observer.     I  am  not  a  Catholic,  nor  yet  a  complaining 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  261 

Protestant.  I  can  not  refrain  withal  from  demonstrat- 
ing a  feature  in  one  religion  which  possesses  such  bind- 
ing force  between  its  members  and  its  priests. 

The  soldiers  of  Christ,  of  whatever  denomination,  in 
this  memorable  epidemic  of  1853,  accomplished  in  a 
short  period  pleasures  in  their  labors  that  a  lifetime  else- 
where would  not  have  gathered.  The  zealous  Jesuit, 
fired  with  the  love  of  serving  his  God  by  bringing  to 
redemption  the  untutored  Eed  Man,  ventured  across  the 
seas,  and,  under  many  privations  and  risks,  blistered  his 
feet  in  ceaseless  journeys  through  the  wilds  of  America. 
The  holy  emblem  of  the  Crucifixion,  which  glittered  in 
the  sun,  was  only  gazed  upon  by  the  savages  as  the 
white  man's  idol,  and,  though  for  the  time  respected,  was 
as  soon  forgotten  as  it  was  removed  from  sight.  The 
benefits  were  never  tangible ;  they  existed  only  in  the 
enthusiast's  brain.  Not  so  the  results  of  this  year's  la- 
bors at  death's  harvesting.  The  sympathy  of  the  priest 
and  dying  penitent  was  complete.  Eveiy  hour  of  the 
day  and  night  the  former  heard  the  last  prayers  of  the 
wanderer  to  the  shoreless  sea,  whispering  hope  to  the 
timid,  and  pressing  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  speech- 
less dying.  His  duties  were  more  akin  to  those  of  one 
of  an  intermediate  state  than  to  common  humanity.  Con- 
firmed scoffers  at  religion,  even  the  leading  cheats  of 
atheism  and  infidelity,  have  confirmed  the  divinity  that 
is  within  us  in  their  dying  moments.  There  is  a  sweet 
consciousness  of  a  coming  good  induced  by  faith  in 
Christian  promises  that  causes  the  sufferer,  once  so  fear- 
ful of  death  and  loving  of  hfe,  to  pray  for  the  moment 
of  separation  from  earthly  objects.  Those  who  have  ob- 
served the  expression  of  the  eye  and  features  when  the 
spirit  is  thus  possessed  have  noticed  an  ecstasy,  a  calm- 
ness and  serenity  common  only  to  the  innocent  young ; 
and  after  Death  has  grappled  his  victim,  the  triumph  of 
hope  is  no  less  beautifully  fixed  in  the  expression.    Then 


262  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

it  is  that  the  priest  feels  his  reward  for  his  patient  watch- 
ings,  and  for  his  instrumentahtj  in  the  spiritual  conver- 
sion. With  less  of  sorrow  now  than  envy,  he  hastens 
away  to  fulfill  like  ofices  to  another,  and  another,  and 
another. 

Almost  every  resident  on  the  great  thoroughfares  of 
the  city — on  Chartres,  Eoyal,  and  Camp  Streets — have 
noticed  an  old  man  of  the  rag-picking  fraternity,  wear- 
ing a  precisely-cut  gray  and  black  beard — the  former 
color  preponderating — and  a  well-defined  mustache.  A 
tattered  cloak,  thrown  artistically  over  his  shoulders,  fell 
over  his  left  arm,  which  was  akimbo ;  in  his  right  hand 
he  held  a  barbed  pointed  stick,  which  crossed  his  breast, 
having  the  last  piece  of  rag  that  he  had  picked  up  dan- 
gling from  the  end  thereof  He  walked  erect  and  the- 
atrically, as  if  he  were  on  parade,  or  the  cynosure  of  all 
eyes  in  a  triumphal  entry.  To  observers  who  would 
stop  to  look  at  him  he  would  give  a  glance  from  spright- 
ly, dark,  small  eyes,  while  a  cynical  or  conceited  smile 
played  on  his  countenance.  His  head  was  a  studj^  for  a 
Flemish  artist.  His  physiognomy  indicated  more  of  the 
savant  than  the  stolid  and  filthy  rag-picker.  He  was 
the  bugbear  of  children,  whose  attention  was  drawn  to- 
ward him  by  his  drum -major  antics,  but  who  as  rapidly 
retreated  when  they  met  the  glance  of  that  lustrous  black 
eye  from  under  its  shaggy  brow.  He  was  discriminat- 
ing in  his  search  for  rags,  and  rarely  lost  his  time  by  in- 
serting his  stick  into  the  box  of  offals  thrown  from  a 
poor  man's  door.  I  had  several  times  accosted  him,  but 
received  no  repl}^  He  taught  me  my  place ;  in  turn  I 
was  bound  to  respect  his. 

In  a  dilapidated  house  on  Ursuline  Street  I  visited 
several  patients,  when  one  day  I  was  informed  that  an 
old  man  was  lying  sick  in  a  small  basement  room  in  the 
rear  of  the  building.  I  went  to  the  door,  rapped,  and, 
after  a  few  minutes'  delay,  the  door  was  unbolted,  and  I 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  263 

was  confronted  on  its  thresliold  by  my  ddffonier,  I  told 
him  I  heard  he  was  sick,  and  if  in  distress  too,  I  should 
like  to  be  of  service  to  him.  He  looked  at  me  with  sur- 
prise, and,  belying  his  appearance,  said,  "I  am  not  ill, 
sir ;  though,  if  I  were,  I  could  take  care  of  myself.  I 
thank  you,  nevertheless,  for  your  condescension."  Such 
were  his  words,  delivered  with  emphasis  and  a  courtly 
elegance  of  manner.  He  still  held  to  the  door,  covering 
with  his  body  an  insight  to  his  dark  and  damp  chamber. 
I  remarked  that  I  hoped  I  had  not  offended.  "By  no 
means,  sir ;  you  do  me  honor — Je  vous  salue^  Monsieur  J'' 

This  was  decisive.  On  giving  the  result  of  my  visit 
to  my  informers,  they  said  he  had  been  sick  for  several 
day^.  An  old  colored  woman  who  washed  in  the  yard 
had  given  him  baths  and  made  ptisans  for  him.  They 
also  told  me  that  he  had  several  thousand  dollars  in 
bank,  which  was  known  by  the  landlord  of  the  prem- 
ises. He  had  occupied  that  room  for  three  years,  never 
leaving  it  except  at  sunrise,  and  returning  at  noon  with 
a  piece  of  meat  and  some  vegetables,  which  he  cooked 
himself. 

In  the  summer  of  1854 1  was  promenading  the  Levee 
near  the  shipping,  when  I  exchanged  looks  with  a  man 
that  I  thought  I  had  met  previously.  On  turning  round 
I  again  met  his  eye.  He  stopped,  as  if  inviting  an  inter- 
view. I  approached  toward  him.  With  a  grace  not  to 
be  excelled  by  a  Brummel,  he  bowed  and  lifted  his  cap. 
I  immediately  recognized  him.  He  was  now  in  search 
of  a  French  vessel  for  Havre,  giving  it  the  preference, 
as  he  could  not  speak  English.  To  my  questioning,  he 
informed  me  that  he  was  tired  of  this  country.  The  so- 
cial distinction  was  too  great  for  him.  "In  France," 
said  he,  "so  that  I  live  honestly  by  my  business,  I  am 
the  companion  of  all  I  care  to  know.  My  countrymen 
here  become  changed.  They  look  upon  my  pursuit  as 
you  Americans  do ;  besides,  it  is  a  {vilain)  rascally  place 


264  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN". 

to  live  in.  Every  one  strives  with  his  life  to  make 
money,  and  before,  or  soon  after  he  thinks  himself  rich, 
he  is  fattening  the  soil  of  your  swamps.  I  came  to 
make  money  at  the  instigation  of  a  confrere,  who  is  now 
enjoying  in  France  the  fruits  of  a  few  years'  labor  here. 
I  am  frank  to  tell  you  that  I  have  accumulated  in  five 
years  francs  enough  to  retain  me  in  comfort  and  resj^ect- 
ability  at  home."  To  my  question  as  to  the  amount  he 
had  amassed,  he  answered  20,000  francs.  "  I  have  not," 
he  continued,  "  denied  myself  any  thing  in  my  pursuit; 
I  lived  as  well  as  I  wished  for  the  present,  being  sus- 
tained with  the  prospect  of  better  enjoyment  hereafter. 
When  I  return  home,  my  success  will  induce  others  to 
emigrate.  There  is  a  large  field  for  them.  You  Amer- 
icans, unlike  the  French,  daily  throw  out  fortunes  on  the 
street.  Were  I  younger,  I  would  not  take  100,000  francs 
for  a  ten  years'  residence  among  you."  As  he  offered 
me  his  hand,  he  raised  his  cap  from  his  head  with  more 
of  an  air  of  "  high  consideration"  than  of  equality,  and 
feelingly  thanked  me  for  the  considerateness  of  my  visit 
to  him  during  his  sickness.  Yale !  my  peripatetic  phi- 
losopher. 

From  theJ^sLofSeptember,  1858,  patientsjiere  more 
successfully  treatedT  JMot  that  tEefe'was  any  change  in 
the  curative  process,  but  perhaps  owing  to  a  noted  cir- 
cumstance, that  the  force  of  the  wind  from  the  west  and 
north  had  become  greater.  I  say  'perliajis^  because  there 
is  no  certain  deduction  to  be  made  in  any  thing  that 
i3oncerns  the  cause  or  existence  of  yellow  fever.  Phy- 
sicians have  been  so  long  confounded  to  find  one,  that 
they  allow  themselves  to  be  tossed  upon  every  theory 
that  is  floated  before  them.  Every  epidemic  initiates  a 
new  cure  and  a  new  theory,  which  experience  explodes. 
Great  reliance  had  been  placed  in  a  rainy  season  and  a 
dry  season,  a  low  stage  of  water  and  a  high  stage  of  wa- 
ter.    By  comparison  of  years  of  epidemics,  we  will  see 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  265 

tlie  fallacy  of  any  fixed  tlieory.  The  year  1858  sprung 
a  new  theory  upon  a  recently-discovered  substance,  said 
to  be  oxygen  electrified,  produced  from  lightning  pass- 
ing through  the  air,  and  called  ozone.  The  property  of 
vitality  attributed  to  this  principle  is  so  great  that  where 
it  is  created  epidemics  can  not  exist.  Yet,  if  we  com- 
pare the  two  great  epidemic  years  of  1853  and  1858,  we 
shall  see  that  during  one  there  was  abundance  of  rain, 
with  frequent  and  heavy  thunder-storms ;  and  in  the 
other  a  remarkably  dry  season,  and  not  a  single  thun- 
der-storm until  the  close  of  the  epidemic  in  October. 
By  the  same  comparison,  in  the  two  years,  the  disturb- 
ance of  the  earth,  as  a  cause,  in  digging  canals  and  mak- 
ing rail-roads  contiguous  to  the  city,  falls  to  the  ground. 
The  exciting  cause  of  yellow  fever  in  a  locality,  no  less 
than  a  fixed  cure  or  preventive  of  it,  will  exhaust  con- 
jecture for  some  time  to  come.  The  suddenness  of  its 
attack  upon  an  organization  free  from  lassitude,  loss  of 
appetite,  or  any  inviting  predisposition,  is  as  wonderful 
as  its  mysterious  agency  in  the  economy  of  nature. 

For  several  days  every  cot  in  the  Globe  Infirmary 
was  tenanted.  The  few  discharged  were  more  than  re- 
placed by  new  applicants  for  admission.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  when  the  surplus  was  rejected  by  the 
Charity  Hospital,  I  was  obliged  to  do  the  best  that  cir- 
cumstances would  permit  for  them  at  their  own  homes. 
I  had  much  to  contend  with  in  obtaining  nurses,  and 
was  kept  constantly  driving  from  one  to  the  other  to 
administer  medicines,  replenish  their  drinks,  and  per- 
form the  necessary  and  all-important  duties  of  a  nurse. 
In  one  square  on  Main  Street  I  had  over  twenty  patients, 
all  of  French  or  Swiss  nativity.  Two  of  the  former 
were  man  and  wife,  both  young,  and  taken  ill  the  same 
day.  On  the  second  day  I  removed  the  man  to  an  ad- 
joining room.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  their 
symptoms  or  conduct  until  the  fourth  dav.     Then  the 

M 


266  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN". 

man  appeared  to  be  doing  well,  while  his  wife  was  con- 
tinually moaning  and  restless  from  excruciating  pains. 
SnjB&cient  was  revealed  to  me  to  hurry  off  for  an  ac- 
coucheuse. The  heart-rending  moans,  succeeded  by 
burning  tears,  are  yet  alive  in  my  memory.  I  despaired 
of  seeing  one  saved  in  her  situation.  When  I  returned 
with  the  accoucheuse,  her  suffering  seemed  yet  more  in- 
tense. Having  other  duties  to  perform,  I  left,  and  about 
midnight  went  home  to  rest.  Although  fatigued  in 
body,  I  found  I  could  not  sleep.  A  stimulant  even  fail- 
ed to  induce  it.  The  cries  of  that  woman  were  ringing 
in  my  ears  to  the  exclusion  of  the  composure  necessary 
for  repose.  I  dressed  and  went  out  again.  Not  a  sounci 
was  to  be  heard,  not  a  moving  thing  to  be  seen.  Even 
the  occupation  of  the  watchman  seemed  to  be  gone,  from 
the  absence  of  the  baton-raps  on  the  pavement.  The 
moon  shone  in  unclouded  grandeur,  and  gave  the  lie  in 
its  serenity  to  the  misery  it  overlooked.  I  had  arrived 
within  a  square  of  my  destination,  when  a  succession  of 
piercing  cries,  like  death  shrieks,  curdled  the  blood  in  my 
veins.  I  soon  divined  the  cause.  I  hastened  my  steps, 
and,  on  ascending  to  the  gallery  which  fronted  the  rooms 
of  my  patients,  I  encountered  four  ladies  who  had  been 
attracted  to  the  spot  by  the  cries.  Seeing  the  attendance 
complete,  I  stood  aside,  awaiting  the  result.  One  of  them 
appeared  to  know  me,  for  she  excused  her  visit  by  say- 
ing that  they  were  of  the  society  of  Les  dames  de  la 
Providence^  which  is  composed  of  married  ladies  belong- 
ing to  the  most  respectable  class  of  our  Creole  popula- 
tion. They  confine  their  attentions  to  their  own  sex, 
and  are  liberally  provided  with  funds  from  private  con- 
tributions. I  had  frequently  before  heard  of  them  mak- 
ing nocturnal  visits  in  couples,  but  met  them  for  the  first 
time  now.  While  they  were  engaged  with  the  wife,  I 
stepped  into  the  room  to  see  the  husband.  The  door 
was  open,  through  which  he  could  distinctly  hear  the 
plaints  and  implorations  of  his  suffering  wife. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  267 

'^In  the  name  of  God,  come  to  me,  Alplionse.  Oh, 
come  to  me !     Come  to  jour  poor  Cecile." 

Prostrated  from  the  weakness  of  repulsed  attempts  to 
leave  his  bed  to  go  to  her,  he  returned  her  endearing  ex- 
clamations with  the  constant  entreaties  of  "Do  not  cry, 
my  Cecile.  Do  not  moan.  Have  courage,  Cecile,"  and 
the  like,  all  the  while  sobbing  and  weeping  like  a  child. 

The  crisis  of  her  suffering  was  soon  past.  After  an 
infliction  of  such  startling  sounds  upon  the  dull  ear  of 
night,  that  can  compare  with  nothing  less  than  the  wail 
of  ghouls,  Cecile  had  now  swooned  into  insensibility  or 
death,  none  could  tell  me  which.  The  child  was  prem- 
ature, but  healthy,  and  pronounced  likely  to  live.  Quiet 
was  established.  Alphonse  was  silenced,  and  his  alarms 
for  his  wife  dissipated,  and  there  was  no  occasion  for  my 
longer  stay.  When  I  stepped  on  the  gallery,  a  peacock, 
the  annoyance  of  any  neighborhood,  voiced  its  hideous 
notes  in  a  lengthened  strain,  as  if  in  mockery  of  man's 
weakness,  or  in  triumph  of  its  own  exemption  from  the 
suffering  and  death  around.  Those  Ladies  of  Providence 
must  recur  to  the  events  of  that  night  as  one  fit  to  com- 
memorate a  feast  of  horrors,  for  silence  and  the  perspira- 
tion of  their  brows  showed  how  their  frames  were  un- 
nerved and  powerless  to  move,  as  if  under  the  influence 
of  a  terrible  dream. 

On  the  next  morning  I  was  an  early  attendant.  Ce- 
cile was  composed,  held  out  her  hand  to  me,  but  said 
nothing.  A  slow  but  significant  movement  of  her  head 
told  me  how  much  she  had  suffered,  and  that  she  had 
no  hope.  Hearing  of  the  urgent  entreaty  of  Alphonse 
to  be  brought  to  her  bedside,  which  was  delayed  until 
my  arrival,  we  carried  him  in  his  cot  and  placed  him 
beside  her.  Involuntary  tears  simultaneously  coursed 
their  cheeks  as  their  eyes  met.  She  beckoned  for  her 
infant,  placed  her  hand  on  its  chubby  cheek,  and  drew 
it  toward  her  lips.     The  anguish  that  was  expressed  in 


268  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAK. 

her  countenance  after  this  embrace  feelingly  depicted 
the  mother's  pangs  at  parting  with  her  offspring,  though 
heaven,  with  all  its  allurements,  were  held  out  as  a 
choice.  As  it  was  taken  from  her,  she  muttered,  "  Al- 
phonse,  my  child,  may  the  Holy  Virgin  guard  you !" 

For  fear  of  exciting  her  dangerously,  Alphonse  had 
been  cautioned  against  speaking  to  her,  and  was  now 
carried  back  to  his  room.  Undisturbed  repose  and  quiet 
were  her  only  safety.  On  my  return  two  hours  later, 
her  strength  was  gradually  failing  her.  Her  confessor, 
who  attended,  received  but  monosyllables  in  reply  to 
his  whisperings.  Hope  had  fled,  and  disconsolate  she 
died,  with  the  hand  of  her  infant  pressed  to  her  lips. 

My  stay  at  her  bedside  was  unusually  long,  but  I  was 
there  retained  by  the  chord  of  sympathy  which  held  the 
others  to  the  spot.  Before  she  had  breathed  her  last, 
one  of  her  friends,  too  poor  to  contribute  enough,  and 
unwilling  to  see  her  remains  interred  with  the  poor  and 
unknown  in  St. Vincent  de  Paul's,  solicited  subscriptions 
from  her  husband's  acquaintances  near  the  French  mar- 
ket. A  sufl&cient  amount  was  collected  to  defray  the 
expense  of  a  cherry  cofi&n,  hearse,  and  a  distinct  place 
of  interment. 

In  this  instance  I  was  not  asked  to  contribute  the 
funds  of  the  Association  for  her  burial.  From  former 
deaths,  all  knew  that  our  rules  allowed  us  to  make  no 
distinction  in  our  dead.  The  exceptional  cases  were 
when  the  late  condition  of  the  deceased  or  his  relations 
in  life  were  of  that  character  that  he  should  not  be  con- 
founded with  emigrants  and  unknown  persons.  This 
charity  was  due  to  the  surviving  families  of  old  resi- 
dents. I  do  not  know  how  I  should  have  acted  in  the 
present  case.  Any  question  in  my  mind  was  anticipa- 
ted by  the  early  action  of  friends. 

The  husband  recovered.  For  months  afterward  I 
was  saluted  as  I  walked  through  the  market  by  a  man 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  269 

■wHom  I  could  not  place  in  my  recollection.  Having 
stopped  at  his  stall  to  purchase  some  article,  he  asked 
me  if  I  did  not  remember  Alphonse.  The  bitter  mem- 
ories of  those  days  opened  the  fountain  of  his  heart,  and 
he  could  not  conceal  his  emotions  as  he  thanked  me  for 
my  sympathy  and  aid. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

Mortality  at  the  Globe.  —  Some  of  the  Patients.  —  Impositions.  —  The 
deserted  one. 

Unto  the  12th  of  September,  838  cases  of  fever  had 
been  admitted  into  the  Globe  Infirmary,  of  which  156 
died,  and  182  were  discharged  cured.  This  was  not  be- 
low the  average  of  cure,  considering  the  cases  under 
treatment.  More  than  one  half  of  those  admitted  had 
been  treated  for  several  days  by  physicians  at  their  res- 
idences, or  were  entered  in  a  desperate  condition.  Many 
were  sent  from  boarding-houses  in  the  last  stage,  to  get 
rid  of  the  expenses  of  the  burial ;  while  unfeeling  cab- 
men, to  obtain  the  fare  of  transportation  to  the  infirma- 
ry, hunted  up  cases  at  the  beer-shops  and  on  the  Levee. 
Speaking  of  the  average  of  deaths  by  yellow  fever,  it 
was  laughable  to  hear  of  the  boasts  of  some  physicians 
in  referring  to  the  number  of  yellow-fever  patients  who 
died  under  their  hands.  The  proportion  of  one  was  sure 
to  be  diminished  in  the  statement  of  another.  Our  rec- 
ords and  our  testimony  would  have  settled  the  question 
between  them,  but  the  result  could  not  be  arrived  at 
from  the  certificates  of  death  handed  to  the  sextons.  Eep- 
utation  was  too  dear  to  the  physician,  and  the  sexton's 
record  too  conclusive,  to  commit  one's  self  by  assigning 
the  cause  of  every  death  to  yellow  fever.  Hence  many 
flattered  their  consciences  with  fixing  on  the  dead  some 
other  disease,  such  as  typhoid,  congestive  fever,  cholera, 


270  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

etc.  This  will  account  for  the  large  number  of  deaths 
rej)orted  in  a  sparse  population  of  other  diseases  than  of 
the  epidemic. 

As  I  have  previously  remarked,  for  some  weeks  be- 
fore the  closing  of  the  infirmary  the  applicants  were  of 
a  better  order  than  at  the  opening.  A  French  gentle- 
man, of  middle  age,  dressed  in  a  frock-coat  ornamented 
with  frogs  on  the  breast,  presented  himself,  and  gave  his 
initial  as  Mons.  D .  He  offered  to  pay  for  the  at- 
tendance, which  we,  of  course,  refused.  He  could  not 
be  persuaded  to  put  on  one  of  the  infirmary  bed-gowns. 
He  recovered,  and  again  proffered  pay ;  and,  upon  again 
being  refused,  passed  a  feeling  eulogium  on  this  singular 
institution  of  our  country. 

Another  was  brought  in  during  my  absence,  whose 
companions  informed  the  clerk  they  would  bury  him  if 
he  died.  He  gave  a  fictitious  name  to  the  clerk  for  entry 
on  the  books,  but  confided  to  him  his  real  one.  From 
day  to  day,  as  was  my  wont,  I  stopped  at  his  cot  and  in- 
quired of  his  condition.  At  first  he  was  very  taciturn. 
Hearing  one  day  from  him  that  he  had  left  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel  for  the  infirmary,  I  asked  how  it  came 
that  he  gave  us  the  preference. 

"Dog  it,"  said  he,  "I  prefer  a  hospital  to  the  solitude 
and  gloom  of  every  thing  around  me  at  the  hotel.  Mis- 
ery loves  company,  and  I  would  rather  see  it  than  hear 
of  it  or  imagine  it,  as  I  did  there.  If  I  die  here,  I  shall, 
at  least,  have  an  opportunit}^  of  diverting  my  thoughts 
from  myself"  He  wished  nothing  added  to  what  was 
prescribed  or  administered.  With  the  exception  of  a 
monosyllabic  answer  to  my  usual  questions  as  I  passed 
the  cots  of  the  sick,  he  took  no  notice  of  me  or  invited 
conversation.  He  died  on  his  thii'd  day  of  a  congestive 
type.  Besides  notifying  his  friends,  I  examined  the  pa- 
pers he  had  left  with  the  clerk.  From  them  I  learned 
that  he  was  the  dissolute  son  of  an  eminent  London 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  271 

banker.  On  inquiring  of  tlie  lionse  to  tlie  care  of  wliich 
his  letters  were  addressed,  I  was  shown  a  bill  of  ex- 
change for  £500,  which  had  been  sent  to  the  house  for 
him  by  his  father,  accompanied  by  a  letter.  This  letter, 
together  with  his  papers,  bill  of  exchange,  and  certifi- 
cate of  death,  were  sent  back  to  the  latter. 

The  constant  surveillance  of  every  member  in  his 
district  was  not  complete  security  against  imposition. 
So  far  as  determining  the  condition  of  the  sick,  we  had 
the  infallible  test  of  the  pulse  or  appearance  to  govern 
us.  Importuned  as  we  were  for  relief  of  destitution,  we 
gave  money  and  groceries  to  many  whose  sincerity  we 
did  not  in  the  least  question.  Women  appealed  to  us, 
certified  to  by  credulous  neighbors  of  the  dreadful  pen- 
ury of  their  large  family  of  children.  Personal  observ- 
ation of  the  five  or  more  children  assembled  in  one  room, 
with  scarcely  bedding  for  half  of  them,  opened  our  hearts 
to  the  maximum  of  relief;  strict  inquiry  would  have  ex- 
posed to  us  that  the  children  were  borrowed  for  the  oc- 
casion. Once  successful  with  one  member,  the  same 
woman  vf  as  encouraged  to  play  off  a  like  deception  upon 
another  by  changing  her  residence  and  her  name.  To 
the  credit  of  our  country,  I  must  add  that  all  such  dis- 
covered belonged  to  the  class  of  alien  professional  beg- 
gars. Among  other  impositions  were  the  bills  of  apoth- 
ecaries. Though  we  had  regular  appointed  and  paid 
physicians  for  each  district,  we  did  not  deny  a  patient 
the  attendance  of  one  of  his  selection,  provided  we  had 
nothing  to  pay  for  his  services ;  neither  did  we  show 
an  exclusive  preference  for  any  apothecary,  choosing 
rather  that  the  physician  should  have  his  prescriptions 
put  up  where  his  hieroglyphics  were  best  understood. 
Thus  did  we  become  subsidized  to  almost  every  apoth- 
ecary shop  in  the  city.  In  some  of  these  the  physician 
was  entirely  interested ;  in  others  a  partnership  existed 
to  the  extent  of  patronage  given.     In  both  cases  the 


272  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

temptation  was  strong  to  put  up  prescriptions  of  the 
most  extravagant  character.  Neither  member  or  nurse 
questioned  the  contents  of  the  six-ounce  phial,  of  which 
a  few  teaspoonfuls  would  be  given  on  the  first  day,  to  be 
substituted  the  next  and  every  day  after  for  other  mix- 
tures— perhaps  all  innocent  in  efiect,  though  the  color 
of  the  liquid  might  be  changed.  Sponging  the  body 
with  the  ex^Dcnsive  solution  of  quinine,  a  frequent  repe- 
tition of  fly-blisters,  never  on  long  enough  to  irritate  the 
sMn,  and  the  like,  rapidly  footed  up  a  large  bill  of  ex- 
pense on  a  case.  As  the  accounts  were  only  presented 
monthly  for  settlement,  the  patient  was  very  likely  to  be 
too  far  out  of  the  way  to  be  inquired  of  if  he  had  taken 
or  submitted  to  the  enormous  quantities  of  mixtures  and 
topical  applications.  When  we  endeavored  to  convince 
such  apothecaries  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  man, 
sick  or  well,  to  swallow  so  much  stuff  or  to  undergo  a 
succession  of  such  expensive  applications  to  his  body 
without  rapid  dissolution,  and  suggested  to  submit  the 
bill  to  the  inspection  of  another  apothecary  and  physi- 
cian, we  rarely  failed  to  obtain  a  large  reduction  on  the 
claim.  Some  apothecaries  refased  to  give  up  the  pre- 
scriptions of  physicians,  which  we  were  entitled  to  as 
vouchers  for  the  correctness  of  the  bill.  These  were  ei- 
ther unpaid  or  compromised.  The  accounts  of  old  and 
reputable  ajDOthecaries,  made  on  prescriptions  of  our  paid 
physicians,  were  not  questioned.  They  rarely  averaged 
over  five  dollars  to  each  patient.  As  much,  though,  as 
we  might  be  disposed  to  question  the  latter,  we  were  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  the  scale  of  prices,  as  a  mixture  of  a 
few  grains  (say  of  quinine)  in  a  six-ounce  phial  of  water 
becomes  doubled  or  quadrupled  in  price,  according  to 
the  number  of  other  ingredients  and  the  time  taken  in 
its  preparation. 

After  ten  o'clock  at  night  I  was  met  by  a  colored 
woman,  who  informed  me  that  in  St..  Anne  Street  a  fe- 


DIARY   OF   A   SAMARITAN.  273 

male  was  sick  of  yellow  fever,  and  in  the  greatest  desti- 
tution. Following  lier  to  the  house,  we  entered  the  al- 
ley-way, which  led  to  a  small  room  in  the  basement  of 
the  back  building,  and  in  the  rear  of  a  kitchen.  A  dull 
light  from  a  tallow  candle  exposed  to  me  a  woman  lying 
on  a  cot  before  the  window.  There  was  not  another 
piece  of  furniture  in  the  room — not  even  a  chair.  On 
the  mantle-piece  were  several  bottles  and  phials.  I  was 
shocked  at  the  utter  misery  and  desolation  around. 
There  was  a  chair  in  the  yard  near  the  door,  which  I 
suppose  had  been  occupied  by  some  watcher  during  the 
day.  But  how  was  it  that  she  was  thus  alone  ?  My  in- 
formant had  been  by  accident  in  the  yard,  and  came  to 
me  without  the  suggestion  of  any  one.  Was  the  patient 
to  lie  thus  hopeless  and  unattended  during  the  night? 
Without  addressing  the  sufferer,  who  looked  curiously 
and  inquringly  at  me,  I  went  outside  to  the  main  build- 
ing to  seek  the  proprietor  of  the  house.  I  was  not  in 
the  humor  of  mincing  words  at  the  sight  of  such  barbar- 
ous neglect,  and  in  this  spirit  I  rapped  violently  at  a 
door  opening  on  the  back  gallery.  I  was  replied  to  in 
a  woman's  voice. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  The  proprietor  of  the  house." 

"  I  am  she." 

"  Then  come  out ;  I  must  see  you  immediately."  This 
decisive  language  was  followed  by  the  unbolting  of  a 
side  window  and  the  appearance  of  a  female  head. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  there  is  a  woman  in  that  room  ly- 
ing dangerously  ill.  Do  you  know  it,  and  intend  that 
she  shall  die  like  a  dog  ?" 

"  In  one  moment,"  she  replied.  "  Wait."  When  she 
again  showed  herself,  half  robed,  she  said,  "  Are  you  the 
doctor  ?  No,  you  are  not.  Poor  girl !  she  has  suffered 
much.  I  have  been  nursing  her  and  sitting  with  her 
night  and  day.     She  insisted  yesterday  upon  my  remov- 

M2 


274  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

ing  her  from  this  room  here  to  the  one  she  now  occu- 
pies, so  that  I  could  rent  this  one.  I  am  poor,  sir ;  she 
knows  it ;  but,  poor  as  I  am,  I  would  not  have  removed 
her  if  it  had  not  been  at  her  urgent  request.  She  owes 
me  three  months'  board ;  I  owe  my  landlord,  and  I  must 
have  money  for  my  own  sustenance  as  well  as  hers.  All 
that  I  have  I  have  spent  upon  her ;  I  only  left  her  for  a 
few  minutes  of  sleep.  The  neighbors  have  assisted  me 
in  nursing  her.  I  am  now  so  weak  that  I  am  sick  my- 
self. I  have  her  child  in  my  bed.  Can  I  do  more  than 
I  have  done  ?" 

"Why  did  you  not  send  to  the  Howard  Association 
for  assistance  ?" 

"I  did  think  of  that,  sir,  but  she  said  she  would  not 
die  in  a  hospital." 

Upon  my  informmg  her  that  we  did  not  always  send 
our  patients  to  the  hospital,  she  reproved  herself  for  not 
taking  the  advice  given  to  her. 

I  returned  to  the  sick  woman,  and  remarked  to  her 
that,  as  she  appeared  so  miserable  and  badly  treated,  I 
had  been  expressing  my  indignation  to  the  proprietress ; 
but,  now  that  I  learned  that  she  was  from  choice  in  this 
apartment,  I  would  make  her  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

"  She  told  you  truly,"  she  replied,  at  the  same  time 
turning  her  head  around  with  pain  and  dificulty,  as  if 
looking  for  a  chair  for  me.  I  interpreted  it  thus,  and 
sought  one  on  the  outside.  When  I  first  arrived  I  ex- 
perienced great  exhaustion ;  the  excitement  of  so  great 
misery  before  me  dissipated  it,  and  nerved  me  to  con- 
tinued exertion. 

"You  say,  sir,  you  belong  to  the  Howard  Associa- 
tion ;  you  visit  and  relieve  sick  poor  people.  We  have 
nothing  of  this  kind  in  France.  You  are  an  American  ? 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"Madam,"  replied  I,  "I  am  entirely  at  your  service. 
I  am  recompensed  for  that  I  do  at  your  command.     I 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN.  275 

can  not  turn  your  chamber  into  a  palace,  but  I  will  have 
for  you  all  that  you  can  desire  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Do  you  say  so  ?" 

She  pressed  two  fingers  on  her  eyes  to  assure  them  of 
greater  strength,  while  she  looked  at  me  and  inquired, 

"Can  I  recover?" 

"There  is  every  possibility  of  it,"  I  replied.  "You 
look  robust ;  and,  since  you  have  survived  the  critical 
days,  I  think,  with  nursing  and  composure  on  your  part, 
you  will  get  well." 

"  Oh,  thanks !  thanks !"  she  ejaculated. 

I  promised  that,  if  I  did  not  succeed  in  engaging  a 
nurse,  which  it  was  difficult  to  do  at  that  hour  of  the 
night,  I  would  return  and  sit  up  with  her  myself. 

Her  voice,  accent,  and  language  in  the  remarks  that 
followed  impressed  me  so  favorably  that,  with  the  ex- 
cuse of  looking  at  her  tongue,  I  brought  forward  the  dim 
candle  from  the  mantle,  that  I  might  learn  more  of  her 
character  by  seeing  her  face.  It  is  irreverent,  I  know, 
to  expatiate  upon  the  physiognomy  of  a  sick  person, 
when  sympathy  should  be  exclusively  wrapped  in  her 
sufferings ;  but  in  this  case  it  was  so  irresistibly  impress- 
ive that,  for  a  moment,  I  forgot  that  the  poor  creature 
was  at  the  j)oint  of  death.  Praxiteles,  in  his  conception 
of  perfection  in  feature  and  expression,  would  have  turn- 
ed in  disgust  from  his  creations  for  this  charming  orig- 
inal. Her  complexion  was  slightly  flushed  from  fever ; 
disease  had  left  its  handprints  on  her  sunken  cheeks; 
care  had  moulded  its  thoughtfulness  upon  her  brow ;  the 
expanded  blue  eye  reflected  the  fever's  internal  fire ;  the 
well-defined  nose  and  lips  were  thin  from  suffering ;  the 
dimpled  chin  alone  preserved  its  healthy  contour ;  yet, 
with  all  these  defects,  each  enough  to  mar  the  beauty  of 
a  blonde,  the  tout  ensemble  was  so  graceful  that  I  imag- 
ined the  sight  of  her  in  health  would  madden  an  an- 
chorite.    Karely  do  I  allow  myself  to  be  disturbed  by 


276  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

sucli  reflections  during  the  sickness  of  any,  be  they  rich 
or  poor.  I  study  to  be  indifferent  to  the  piece  of  mor- 
tahty,  be  it  repulsive  in  form  and  feature,  or  partaking  of 
angehc  attributes.  In  this  instance  it  may  be  that,  as 
the  misery  was  so  deep,  pity  magnified  her  claims  to  my 
greater  exertion.  Despite  weariness  and  fatigue,  I  felt 
nerved  to  save  this  praying  anxious  woman. 

Being  without  a  cab,  I  hurried  on  foot  from  place  to 
place  to  seek  a  nurse.  In  half  an  hour  I  had  persuaded 
one  to  follow  me,  who  had  been  broken  down  by  fre- 
quent watching,  and  had  counted  upon  being  undis- 
turbed this  night.  My  patient  seemed  cheered  by  her 
presence,  and  I  abruptly  left  her  with  the  sick  one. 

In  the  morning  early  I  met  the  physician,  who  pro- 
nounced her  condition  hopeless.  This  did  not  make  me 
despair  or  relax  attentions,  for  I  have  frequently  seen 
nature  strangely  overcome  the  disease  when  the  physi- 
cian, friends,  and  even  hope  have  abandoned  the  suffer- 
er. The  nnrse  was  one  of  the  best.  In  my  absence  she 
had  curtained  the  door  and  window,  and  furnished  the 
room  with  chairs  and  a  covered  table.  On  the  latter 
was  spread  every  convenience  and  comfort  for  the  pa- 
tient. As  I  entered  the  room  the  invalid  held  out  her 
hand  to  me,  and  pointed  to  her  lips,  which  appeared  so 
parched  that  she  could  not  articulate.  Small  pieces  of 
ice,  instead  of  liquids,  placed  in  her  mouth  from  time  to 
time,  greatly  comforted  her,  and  enabled  her  to  speak. 
She  spoke  to  me  of  fatal  precursors — a  burning  sensa- 
tion in  her  breast  and  dimness  of  vision. 

At  noon  I  again  called.  She  was  scarcely  conscious 
of  my  presence,  and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ceil- 
ing. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night  she  recognized  me,  and  call- 
ed me  by  name.  She  had  been  restless  and  delirious, 
and  now  writhed  under  the  irritabiHty  of  the  stomach. 
The  mere  pressing  down  of  a  cataplasm  caused  her  to 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  277 

scream  with  pain.  Feeling  relieved  a  few  minutes  aft- 
erward, she  stretched  her  hand  to  me,  saying, 

"I  am  dying,  and  want  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

The  nurse  retired.  I  drew  my  chair  by  the  side  of 
her  bed,  and  placed  my  ear  so  close  to  her  that  she 
might  not  fatigue  herself  in  talking  aloud,  and  that  I 
might  better  understand  her  broken  sentences.  She 
spoke  between  breaths,  uttering  but  few  words  at  a 
time. 

^'  I  desire  to  tell  you — ^what  has  been  a  secret — in  my 
own  heart.     My  father — is  a  jeweler — in  Paris.     Mr. 

,  in Street — ^knew  him  well.    He  has  been 

— at  his  house.  He  came  out  in  the  ship — with  me-^ 
but  did  not  know — who  I  was.    Without  the  knowledge 

of  my  parents — I  married  Mr. .    He  is  an . 

He  will  come  here  this  fall — my  child  is  his.  He  prom- 
ised to  write — he  has  not.  In  the  name  of  God — pre- 
serve my  child  for  him — tell  him  I  die  blessing  him — 
and  when  I  am  dead — take  this  ring — ^^and  give  it  to 
him." 

Her  utterance  was  so  incoherent  that  many  things  es- 
caped me.  She  said  something  of  having  left  France 
without  a  passport,  and  alluded  to  certain  debts  she  had. 
She  had  evidently  exerted  herself  beyond  her  strength, 
for  her  breathing  became  much  faster,  and  her  eyes  roll- 
ed as  if  she  was  approaching  imconsciousness.  Her 
hand  wandered  about  her  neck  and  breast  apparently 
searching  for  something;  when  it  encountered  a  cross, 
which  was  suspended  by  a  small  gold  chain,  she  rapidly 
drew  it  to  her  lips,  kissed  it  frequently,  and  called  aloud 
for  her  child.  The  nurse  hastened  to  fetch  it.  When 
she  returned  with  it  she  was  entirely  unconscious  of  its 
presence.  Her  writhing  and  trembling  shook  the  cot 
incessantly  for  an  hour;  and,  as  a  sudden  paroxysm 
seized  her,  a  guttural  "ha!"  was  loudly  ejaculated. 
When,  to  all  appearance,  pain  had  ceased,  and  her  breath 


278  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

would  scarcely  dim  the  face  of  a  mirror,  slie  straightened 
her  limbs,  closed  her  eyes,  and  passed  gently  away. 

There  was  in  this  death  nothing  of  the  repulsiveness 
which  commonly  results  from  yellow  fever.  The  hem- 
orrhage of  the  gums  and  nostrils  was  slight,  and  she  had 
been  free  from  black  vomit.  Although  the  saffron  dye 
rapidly  possessed  her  skin,  when  she  had  breathed  her 
last,  her  complexion  was  transparent,  and  resembled 
much  that  of  one  from  a  sudden  death. 

The  proprietress  of  the  rooms  informed  me  she  had 
rented  a  room  of  her  for  five  months  past.     She  gave 

her  name  as  Madame ,  which  was  not  the  same  as 

she  told  me.  She  had  her  meals  from  the  restaurrait ; 
and  when  not  promenading,  she  was  at  home  reading  or 
writmg.  She  had  no  visitors,  and  was  very  reserved  on 
being  addressed.  A  month  previous  to  her  death  she 
had  given  birth  to  a  daughter.  "Disappointed  in  not 
receiving  remittances  from  France,"  said  the  proprie- 
tress, "  she  went  with  me  to  a  pawnbroker,  to  whom  she 
at  several  times  pledged  several  articles  of  dress  and 
jewelry.  You  know,  sir,  how  little  one  gets  when  they 
are  thrown  upon  this  resort.  When  she  took  the  fever, 
her  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  her  child,  from  inability  to 
hire  a  nurse,  made  her  uncontrollable  in  the  physician's 
hands.  She  would  have  her  child  sleep  with  her,  and 
insisted  upon  nursing  it.  This  was  enough  to  produce 
the  worst  consequences  to  both.  The  third  day  of  her 
attack  the  danger  of  her  condition  dawned  upon  her, 
and  she  concluded  to  be  obedient  to  advice.  Knowing 
how  much  I  was  distressed  in  circumstances,  she  grieved 
to  owe  me  for  rent ;  and  on  hearing  that  I  had  an  appli- 
cant for  the  room  she  occupied,  she  entreated  and  insist- 
ed to  be  moved  to  the  room  in  which  she  died." 

After  this  explanation  the  proprietress  led  me  to  the 
room  in  which  was  her  armoire.  The  clothing  and 
dresses  that  were  there  were  of  the  finest  quality.     A 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAJSr.  279 

silk  dress  and  a  Cashmere  shawl,  unsoiled  by  wear,  had 
been  wrapped  in  a  paper  to  be  the  next  sacrifice  to  the 
pawnbroker.  Two  shelves  were  packed  close  with  made- 
up  linen  of  the  best  description.  In  a  drawer  was  a 
writing-desk  which  contained  a  few  pieces  of  jewelry 
and  a  package  of  letters.  The  latter  had  the  endorse- 
ment of  her  name  as  given  to  me.  As  she  owed  for 
her  rent,  and  some  time  would  yet  elapse  before  I  could 
safely  send  the  infant  to  the  asylum,  I  directed  the  pro- 
prietress to  take  possession  of  the  clothing,  and  appro- 
priate the  proceeds  to  the  debts  and  future  expenses. 
The  jewelry  and  letters  were  wrapped  together,  to  be 
kept  until  claimed  by  her  husband  or  relations.  The 
next  day  she  was  decently  buried  in  the  St.  Yincent  de 
Paul's. 

The  next  day  I  procured  a  wet-nurse  for  the  child. 
As  a  necessary  consequence  of  imbibing  the  feverish 
milk  of  its  mother,  it  drooped  away,  and  in  two  days 
after  was  buried  by  her  side.  I  wrote  to  her  husband 
in  Paris,  and  also  addressed  a  letter  to  a  relation  with 
whom  she  had  correspondence.  Neither  was  answered. 
On  the  arrival  of  the  ship  in  which  she  expected  her 
husband,  my  inquiry  was  also  fruitless. 

I  concluded,  then,  that  she  was  deceived — then  de- 
serted. 

Some  years  after  this  an  acquaintance  recalled  this 
case  to  my  mind,  having  been  requested  to  see  me  by 
her  husband.  I  detailed  to  him  all  the  circumstances. 
Whether  from  shame  or  not,  the  husband  never  sought 
for  me,  or  claimed  the  ring  she  had  given  me  for  him, 
nor  her  letters. 

It  was  ever  regretted  by  me  that  I  had  not  been  call- 
ed in  to  her  at  the  commencement  of  attack,  that  she 
might  have  lived  to  frown  upon  the  heartless  father  of 
her  child. 


280  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 


CHAPTER  XXin. 

Orphans  and  temporary  Asylums. — A  Countess. 

The  duties  of  a  member  of  the  Howard  Association 
were  only  partially  fulfilled  by  attendance  during  sick- 
ness. The  care  and  sustenance  of  families  afterward 
was  a  source  of  constant  anxiety.  The  homes  made 
desolate  by  a  mother's  or  father's  death,  frequently  by 
both,  relied  upon  our  guardianship  until  some  disposi- 
tion could  be  made  of  the  children.  Before  the  close  of 
the  epidemic  the  instituted  asylums  had  received  their 
full  complement.  We  were  thus  driven  to  the  necessity 
of  disposing  of  the  grown  children  to  any  respectable 
applicant  who  would  promise  to  bring  them  up  properly 
to  some  trade  or  service.  The  extremely  young  were 
put  out  to  nurses,  whom  we  paid  at  the  rate  of  $12  to 
$15  per  month.  The  numbers  soon  became  so  large 
that  it  became  difacult  to  provide  for  all  by  these  means. 
This  led  to  the  establishment  of  temporary  asylums  in 
each  district.  These  became  rapidly  filled  with  from 
forty  to  seventy  in  each,  as  were  also  the  two  asylums 
established  by  the  Board  of  Health,  placed  under  our 
surveillance. 

In  each  asylum  were  a  matron,  six  or  ten  nurses  in 
proportion  to  the  number  of  infants,  and  three  or  four 
servants.  ISTo  expense  was  spared  in  fitting  up  the  es- 
tablishment, in  the  provisioning  or  attention  to  the  clean- 
liness and  comfort  of  the  children.  Shameful  omissions 
of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  employes  were  frequent,  but 
corrected  so  soon  as  discovered.  Every  citizen  had  the 
privilege  of  sending  orphans  to  the  asylum  of  his  re- 
spective district.     It  was  required  that,  upon  entering 


DIAKY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  261 

one,  tlie  names  of  tlie  child  and  its  parents  should  be 
given,  to  be  recorded  in  a  book  for  that  purpose.  This 
was  not  strictly  followed.  The  names  were  frequently 
forgotten  by  or  unknown  to  the  person  bringing  the 
children,  and  they  too  young  to  give  them.  This  was 
dreadful,  and  one  of  the  worst  features  of  the  epidemic. 
Many  children  are  now  growing  up  who  are  ignorant 
not  only  of  the  names  of  their  parents,  but  of  their  na- 
tionality. It  was,  indeed,  a  sight  to  make  the  heart 
bleed.  No  visitor  could  behold  without  tears  these  woe- 
begone children,  who  looked  upon  every  new  face  that 
presented  itself  with  a  curious  gaze,  as  if  to  recognize  in 
them  the  ma  or  the  pa  that  they  continually  cried  for. 
Some  there  were,  brothers  and  sisters,  who  found  a 
compensating  comfort  in  each  other's  company,  and  nev- 
er allowed  themselves  to  be  separated  for  a  minute. 
There  was  an  epidemic  sadness  portrayed  in  their  coun- 
tenances; there  was  none  of  the  joyousness  or  glee  of 
children.  They  cared  not  to  play,  but  seemed  weighed 
down  with  the  apprehensions  of  something  worse  in  re- 
serve for  them.  Not  more  exempt  from  disease  than 
their  parents,  they  were  daily  frightened  by  a  death  in 
an  adjoining  cot ;  and  heavy  must  have  been  their  little 
hearts,  when  dreams  of  home,  or  father  and  mother,  left 
them  in  the  morning,  to  gaze  upon  such  sights  and  to 
feel  their  desolateness. 

When  the  epidemic  had  partially  subsided,  a  number 
of  ladies  of  the  Catholic  persuasion,  who  had  witnessed 
the  ignorance  and  inability  of  men  to  take  care  of  young 
children,  petitioned  the  Board  of  Health  for  funds  to  en- 
able them  to  assume  the  entire  charge  of  the  unfortu- 
nates until  a  final  disposition  was  made  of  them.  Con- 
scious that  it  was  their  peculiar  province,  the  proposition 
was  favorably  met.  A  committee  of  conference,  consist- 
ing of  three  members,  was  appointed.  To  avoid  the  cen- 
sure of  the  religious  community,  it  was  enjoined  upon 


282  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

the  committee,  as  a  sine  qua  non^  tliat  tlie  faith  of  the 
children  should  not  be  tampered  with.  These  ladies 
were  of  known  respectability.  Their  society  was  repre- 
sented by  five  or  six,  who  met  ns  on  the  following  day. 
After  explaining  onr  wishes  and  accepting  our  proposi- 
tion, a  memorandum  of  agreement  was  drawn  up,  to  be 
submitted  to  and  confirmed  by  the  board.  From  a  rough 
sketch  in  pencil  which  I  find  among  my  papers,  it  read, 
in  substance,  as  follows : 

"  The  police  committee  of  the  Board  of  Health,  to 
whom  was  referred  the  communication  from  the  ladies 
of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul's  Association,  in  respect  to  their 
offer  to  take  charge  of  the  orphans  now  under  the  care 
and  protection  of  the  board,  report, 

"That  in  their  conference  with  these  ladies  an  agree- 
ment was  concluded  to  give  them  the  entire  manage- 
ment and  control  of  an  asylum  to  be  established  by  them 
in  the  spacious  buildings  known  as  the  school  of  the 
'  Christian  Brothers,'  to  which  all  the  children  supjDorted 
by  this  board  are  to  be  immediately  removed. 

"  The  ladies  aforesaid  also  agree  that,  in  case  any  oth- 
er Christian  denomination  offers  its  services  for  a  similar 
purpose,  the  board  shall  exercise  its  discretion  therein, 
and  make  a  division  of  the  children  agTceably  to  the  re- 
ligious belief  of  the  orphans. 

^'The  ladies  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  farther  engage 
themselves  to  submit  to  the  board  a  weekly  report  of 
the  number  of  children  in  their  charge,  with  names,  age, 
nativity,  and  religion,  as  near  as  can  be  ascertained ;  the 
names  of  such  children  as  shall  be  given  away  for  adojD- 
tion  by  citizens,  of  those  sick  and  dead,  and  whatever 
else  may  refer  to  the  interest  of  the  institution. 

"  It  is  farther  understood  that,  at  the  expiration  of  the 
term  of  this  board,  the  children  shall  be  subject  to  the 
disposal  of  the  City  Council.  In  the  mean  time,  all  the 
expenses  of  the  asylum  are  to  be  borne  by  the  board ; 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  283 

the  bills  for  all  expenses  to  be  signed  and  approved  bj 
the  lady  president  of  the  association." 

I  doubt  if  any  measure  of  so  much  importance  was 
ever  so  rapidly  passed  to  completion  as  this ;  for  on  the 
day  the  memorandum  of  agreement  was  accepted  by  the 
board,  the  ladies  were  promptly  notified  of  it,  and  by 
midnight  they  had  assiduously  engaged  themselves  in 
having  the  proposed  building  cleansed,  whitewashed,  and 
furnished  with  bedding  and  provisions.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  I  was  one  of  three  who  undertook  to  remove 
the  children  from  one  of  the  asylums.  Three  omnibus- 
es, containing  each  over  twenty-five  children,  and  one  or 
two  grown  persons,  left  for  their  new  home  at  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  The  prospect  of  a  change  had  a  merry 
effect  upon  the  children ;  they  felt  that  any  place  was 
better  than  their  former  quarters,  which  was  exposed  to 
dust  and  the  effluvia  from  surrounding  gutters.  A  bas- 
ket of  cakes,  presented  and  passed  around  to  them  by  a 
gentleman,  completed  their  joy.  As  they  jostled  each 
other  during  their  ride  in  the  omnibus,  they  became  wild 
with  laughter.  On  reaching  the  asylum,  they  spoke  of 
the  amusement  and  play  in  wait  for  them  in  the  large 
yard,  with  its  swing  and  seesaws.  They  fairly  tumbled 
out  of  the  omnibus  in  their  haste  to  enter  the  premises ; 
and  no  sooner  were  they  in  than  they  dispersed  them- 
selves in  every  direction,  screaming  with  delight,  and  min- 
gling with  the  children  brought  from  other  asylums.  The 
ladies  were  all  assembled  to  receive  them,  and  I  thought 
they  began  to  feel  the  responsibility  they  had  assumed, 
for  they  had  not  yet  determined  upon  a  code  of  discipline. 
1  handed  the  president  a  list  of  over  eighty  children,  six- 
teen of  which  had  only  their  Christian  names.  The  inces- 
sant glee  of  the  little  ones,  as  in  groups  they  pried  through 
the  buildings  or  raced  in  the  yard,  stifled  in  all,  for  a 
time,  the  sad  reflections  touching  their  condition  and  their 
fate.    The  ladies  freely  mingled  among  the  children.    To 


284  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

tlie  neglect  of  their  own  homes,  they  by  turns  remained 
during  the  days  at  the  asylum  to  instruct  and  overlook 
the  nurses.  A  week  had  not  elapsed  when  all  the  or- 
phans were  clothed  alike  in  dresses  made  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  society.  In  fact,  the  children  now  had  but 
one  thing  to  grieve  for — that  they  were  without  father, 
without  mother.  So  strong  was  this  feeling  in  some  of 
them,  that  they  looked  searchingly  at  every  face  in  hopes 
of  finding  their  parents;  and  sometimes,  being  in  doubt, 
ran  up  to  one  or  other  of  the  ladies,  calling  them  their 
mas.  On  the  second  day  of  their  admission  I  surprised 
a  lad  of  ten  years  writing  with  a  pen  on  the  torn  leaf  of 
a  book.  It  is  before  me,  and  I  copy  it  verbatim  litera- 
timque. 

My  fathers  grave 
My  dear  father  I  love  you  of  all  my  hearth.  And  you  did 
Died  so  quick.     And  I  think  that  I  see  you  always. 
And  I  which  that  you  would  live.     You  was  so  good. 
Our  hole  famely  were — 

Here  followed  four  names.  I  asked  him  what  became 
of  those.  "They  all  died  too,"  said  he,  mournfully ;  and, 
dropping  his  head  upon  the  table,  gave  vent  to  his  feel- 
ings in  tears. 

The  providence  of  the  Creator  is  beautifully  exempli- 
fied in  nature  by  the  contiguous  existence  of  an  antidote 
to  every  poison.  It  is  no  less  markedly  present  in  the 
fountains  of  charity  that  gush  from  the  human  heart  in 
periods  of  pestilential  visitation.  The  greater  the  mis- 
ery to  be  relieved,  the  more  blessed  are  the  chosen  ones 
whom  He  calls  to  relieve  them.  I  venture  to  say  that 
not  one  of  these  ladies  felt  less  than  heroines,  and  revert 
to  their  self-sacrificing  and  enthusiastic  duties  as  the 
happiest  epoch  of  their  lives.  Their  souls  were  then 
possessed  of  a  sympathy  which  raised  them  in  feeling  to 
the  scale  of  angels.     At  that  time, 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  285 

"Their  life  was  in  deeds,  not  days  ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial : 
They  counted  time  by  heart-throbs." 

A  few  days  after  the  opening  of  this  asylum  some 
Protestant  ladies  urged  their  claims  for  a  similar  patron- 
age. They  established  an  institution  called  the  Orphans' 
Home,  which  was  largely  endowed  by  the  Howard  As- 
sociation, and  exists  to  the  present  day,  a  monument  to 
their  zeal  and  virtues. 

At  the  close  of  the  epidemic  lists  of  the  orphans  were 
called  for  by  the  Board  of  Health,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  final  distribution  among  the  asylums  agreea- 
bly to  their  religious  belief  There  were  upward  of 
sixty  orphans  whose  religion  we  had  no  clew  of  ascer- 
taining. Our  chief  guide  with  the  greater  part  of  the 
others  in  determining  if  they  were  Catholics  was  the 
presence  of  an  Agnus  Dei  or  a.  cross  suspended  from 
the  neck.  A  delegation  from  the  Catholic  and  Prot- 
estant Asylums  divided  between  them,  by  alternate 
choice,  those  whose  religion  was  unknown. 

Besides  donating  over  $30,000  to  the  incorporated 
orphan  asylums,  and  taking  care  of  many  of  the  or- 
phans at  the  infirmaries,  the  Howard  Association  appro- 
priated $100  for  each  orphan.  In  the  temporary  asy- 
lums boys  and  girls  were  promiscuously  sustained.  Aft- 
er the  separation  agreeably  to  their  religion,  it  became 
necessary  to  separate  the  sexes.  I  was  present  on  this 
occasion.  An  interesting-looking  girl  of  ten  years  old 
was  informed  that  her  brother,  who  was  two  years 
younger,  would  be  now  separated  from  her,  but  that  she 
would  be  permitted  to  visit  him  at  the  Boys'  Asylum. 
^^No  !  NO !  NO  !"  she  cried  out,  with  the  firmness  of  des- 
peration. "I  promised  my  mother  on  her  death-bed 
never  to  leave  my  brother  Samm}^,  and,  if  you  take  him 
away  from  me,  I  will  kill  myself"  In  the  mean  time  she 
closely  clasped  him  to  her,  and,  dropping  her  head  upon 


286  DIAEY  OF  A  SAITAEITAN. 

liis,  cried  out  hysterically.  They  were  both  fine-look- 
ing children,  of  American  parentage.  This  touching  in- 
cident so  much  affected  all  present  that  none  had  the 
heart  to  allude  to  them  until  the  other  children  were  be- 
ing conveyed  away.  It  was  then  concluded  upon  to 
keep  them  inseparable,  to  meet  applications  for  adoption, 
which  were  frequently  made  by  citizens.  A  few  days 
afterward  I  heard  they  were  both  thus  disposed  of  to  a 
rich  coujDle,  who  engaged  themselves  to  the  committee 
not  only  to  furnish  them  with  a  good  education,  but,  as 
they  were  childless,  to  make  them  their  heirs. 

At  each  of  the  temporary  asylums  the  closing  was 
celebrated  by  a  collation  gotten  up  by  the  ladies,  to 
which  all  of  our  members  were  invited.  I  was  present 
at  them  all,  and  can  compare  the  entertainment  with 
nothing  that  I  had  ever  witnessed  before  or  since.  La- 
dies, whose  tears  were  but  yesterday  mingling  in  sym- 
pathy for  the  helpless  ones  under  their  protection,  now 
that  their  usefulness  had  ceased,  and  their  little  ones 
were  amply  provided  for,  gave  way  to  their  expressions 
of  joy  upon  the  disappearance  of  the  epidemic  and  its 
heart-rending  associations.  Toasts  and  sentiments  were 
boldly  spoken,  and  wine  circulated  freely,  until  the  ex- 
treme of  merriment  chased  away  from  every  heart  the 
last  shades  of  sadness  which  had  so  long  hung  over  it. 

An  old  Creole  lady  "who  had  seen  better  days,"  now 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  providing  for  her  children 
by  keeping  furnished  rooms  on  Eoyal  Street,  called 
upon  me  to  help  her  in  the  expense  of  attending  to  the 
only  one  remaming  of  all  her  lodgers.     She  remarked 

that,  so  long  as  Mr. ,  her  landlord,  gave  her  rent 

free  during  the  epidemic,  she  would  spend  the  last  dol- 
lar on  the  unfortunate  under  her  roof  An  hour  after 
this  visit  I  waited  upon  her.  The  parlor  and  bed-room 
occupied  by  the  invalid,  who  was  then  asleep,  were  fur- 
nished with  articles  of  the  most  costly  make  and  pat- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  287 

terns,  somewliat  the  worse  from  time,  but  not  impaired 
by  use.  The  colors  of  the  satin  curtails  and  damask- 
covered  chairs  harmonized  with  the  rosewood  and  ma- 
hogany, which  had  lost  their  polish.  Every  thing  was 
in  its  place  and  free  from  dust.  After  shutting  the  door 
between  the  two  rooms,  Madame  gave  me  the  history 
of  her  own  reverses,  and  then  acquainted  me  with  the 
secret  history  of  her  lodger  friend. 

"  She  is  a  countess,"  said  she,  "  who  left  France  to  free 
herself  from  family  persecutions.  I  could  show  you  her 
correspondence  to  convince  you  of  her  rank,  but  I  hope 
you  will  be  satisfied  with  my  mere  assertion." 

I  replied  that  it  made  little  difference  to  me  whether 
she  was  a  countess  or  a  peasant;  it  would  be  equally 
agreeable  to  me  to  see  her  get  well.  It  struck  me  at 
the  moment  that  it  was  strange  that  a  charitable  asso- 
ciation should  be  sought  for  relief  where  there  are  hund- 
reds who  would  pride  themselves  on  the  honor  of  such 
acquaintance  and  the  anticipation  of  her  wants.  Hav- 
ing learned  that  the  immediate  requirements  were  the 
hire  of  a  nurse  and  an  order  for  groceries,  I  consented  to 
continue  the  one  who  had  been  attending,  and  sat  down 
to  write  an  order  for  the  latter.  Having  to  affix  the 
name  of  the  relieved  to  all  orders,  I  now  asked  for  that 
of  the  countess.  "  You  must  excuse  me  from  giving 
you  this,"  she  said,  "as  I  have  promised  not  to  reveal 
her  name  except  under  the  most  extreme  necessity."  I 
urged  no  farther,  and  filled  the  order  with  the  name  of 
her  landlady. 

On  the  next  morning  I  called  to  see  how  she  was. 
Before  the  patient  knew  I  was  in  the  room  I  had  passed 
softly  on  the  carpet  to  her  bedside.  She  was  lying  on 
her  back,  with  an  arm  thrown  across  her  eyes.  Gently 
I  felt  her  pulse,  which  I  found  natural,  with  a  healthy 
skin.  As  this  did  not  disturb  her,  I  turned  to  depart, 
when  I  was  called  back  by  "  Is  it  you,  doctor  ?"    When 


288  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

slie  saw  it  was  not,  she  raised  herself  on  her  elbows  and 
said,  "  Are  you  here,  Adolph,  to  upbraid  me  in  my  dy- 
ing hour  ?  Leave  me  to  die  in  the  misery  that  I  am  in, 
rather  than  force  upon  me  the  thoughts  that  your  pres- 
ence brings."  I  told  her  she  was  mistaken  in  the  person 
she  was  addressing.  The  landlady,  who  that  moment  had 
entered,  explained  my  mission.  "Sir,  your  hand,"  she 
replied.  I  sat  beside  her,  told  her  I  sympathized  with 
her  in  her  separation  from  home  and  friends,  and  that 
nothing  should  be  left  undone  for  her  comfort  or  safety. 
"  I  am  very  weak  now,"  she  said ;  "  pray  call  this  even- 
ing ;  I  shall  have  much  to  say  to  you."  Before  leaving, 
I  was  informed  that,  from  imprudence  on  her  part,  or 
improper  treatment,  she  had  been  kept  in  bed  for  five 
weeks.  From  being  a  robust  woman,  she  was  reduced 
to  a  skeleton.  Her  digestive  powers  were  gone,  and  she 
had  been  sustained  for  two  weeks  by  light  stimulants. 
Her  sleep  was  irregular,  and  broken  by  dreams  that 
caused  her  to  cry,  sob,  and  laugh  alternately.  "When 
she  was  awake  she  frequently  called  to  her  landlady  to 
prop  up  pieces  of  her  music  before  her,  in  which  she 
became  enrapt,  her  fingers  the  while  running  over  the 
bedclothes  as  on  the  keys  of  a  piano.  In  the  even- 
ing I  was  again  present.  In  the  corridor  I  met  the 
physician  and  the  landlady,  and  was  informed  that  she 
could  not  survive  the  night.  I  left  them  to  step  into 
the  sick-room.  When  she  recognized  me,  she  said,  "Are 
you  a  father?  and  your  wife  is  alive?  Do  you  love 
your  child?  Do  you  love  your  wife?"  I  bowed  re- 
sponsive. "See  what  creatures  we  make  of  ourselves. 
Is  it  not  infamous  ?  My  God  has  placed  me  here  with 
the  best  heart  to  appreciate  all  his  works ;  I  am  now 
leaving  hfe  in  disgust  with  every  thing.  Every  thing 
human  has  disappointed  me,  and  served  to  crush  me. 
When  I  die  I  hope  to  forget  the  earth.  Oh  I  that  my 
spirit  could  be  embodied  in  some  sweet  air,  like  this 


PIABY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  289 

(showing  me  a  piece  of  music  folded  in  her  hand),  that 
I  might  ever  reach  the  ears  of  angels,  and  forget  that  I 
was  mortal." 

I  reprimanded  her  for  giving  way  to  any  excitement, 
and  cautioned  her  against  the  effects  of  it. 

"You  do  not  know  me,  sir,"  she  said.  "You  will 
never  know  who  I  am ;  yet  you  should,  for  your  disin- 
tereste4  conduct  has  almost  balanced  a  lifetime  of 
wrongs.  I  am  not  long  of  this  world,  and  I  shall  quit 
it  with  but  one  regret,  which  is,  that  I  leave  an  infant, 
perhaps  to  inherit  its  mother's  bad  fortune,  and  most 
surely  to  feel  the  misery  of  loneliness  and  dependence. 
I  have  requested  madame  to  see  that  she  is  placed  in  an 
asylum ;  to  be  watchful  for  remittances  addressed  to  me, 
and  to  preserve  all  letters,  that  my  child  may  one  day 
know  who  she  is.  If  it  will  be  no  trouble  to  you,  I 
should  like  you  to  see  that  my  requests  are  carried 
out." 

The  effort  to  speak  so  much  weakened  her  sensibly. 
She  breathed  quickly,  with  periodical  checks,  as  if  hold- 
ing her  breath  for  the  long  moans  which  followed.  I 
left  her  with  the  madame  and  nurse.  On  the  morning 
following  I  entered  the  chamber,  and  saw  the  two  sit- 
ting beside  the  bed  on  which  the  corpse  of  the  countess 
lay.  She  had  died  at  midnight,  after  a  single  convul- 
sion. They  told  me  that  she  had  completely  prepared 
herself  for  a  Christian's  death.  She  had  the  daily  visit 
of  her  confessor,  and  injuriously  occupied  the  hours  for 
repose  in  reading  prayers,  or  having  them  read  to  her. 

Two  days  after  her  death  I  called  to  see  that  the 
promised  disposition  was  made  of  the  child.  The  mad- 
ame informed  me  that  she  did  not  intend  to  put  it  in 
the  asylum,  but  would  take  care  of  it  herself  for  the 
present.  I  endeavored  to  change  her  intention  by  re- 
peating the  instructions  given  to  me  by  the  deceased, 
and  by  appeals  to  the  sacredness  of  the  promise  she  had 

N 


290  DIABY  OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

made.  She  still  persisted  in  her  determination,  and  I 
concluded  to  let  the  matter  rest  for  the  present. 

It  was  frequently  the  case  that  neighbors  or  acquaint- 
ances rapaciously  took  the  children  of  deceased  persons, 
sometimes  with  the  laudable  purpose  of  adopting  and 
educating  them,  but  more  frequently  to  bring  them  up 
as  apprentices,  servants,  or  worse.  We  became  very 
jealous  of  our  rights,  and  could  not  watch  too  closely 
these  children-snatchers.  During  and  since  the  epi- 
demic, it  has  pained  and  mortified  us  that  we  had  no 
clew  to  the  whereabouts  of  children  whose  parents  have 
died  under  our  care,  when  distant  relatives  wrote  to  us 
that  they  wished  to  give  them  a  home.  In  several  in- 
stances relatives  have  passed  many  days  in  visiting  the 
asylums  and  questioning  the  children  as  to  their  identi- 
ty. It  particularly  chagrined  us  when  requests  from 
abroad  reached  us  for  certificates  of  a  death,  and  to  be 
unable  to  give  information  of  the  survivors. 

Intending  to  act  authoritatively  in  the  case,  I  called 
upon  madame  about  a  month  subsequent.  I  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  meet  at  her  house  a  man  of  family, 
whom  I  knew,  who  said  he  had  been  acquainted  with 
the  deceased,  and  would  defray  the  expense  of  raising 
the  child  until  it  was  claimed  by  her  relatives.  For 
future  reference,  his  name  was  entered  upon  my  report. 


CHAPTEE  XXIY. 

Convalescent  Infinnary.— Closing  Feast  of  the  Globe  Infirmary. 

The  crowning  benefit  of  the  Howard  Association,  and, 
for  its  novelty,  a  most  attractive  feature  of  benevolence, 
was  the  separate  infirmary  for  the  convalescent  of  yel- 
low fever.  The  excellent  suggestion  was  admirably  car- 
ried out  in  all  its  usefulness  by  its  enthusiastic  originator, 
an  old  member  of  the  association.    An  edifice  known  as 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  291 

the  Polar  Star  Lodge,  at  the  corner  of  St.  Anne  and 
Claude  Streets,  was  charitably  placed  at  our  service  for 
that  purpose.  The  building  was  an  oblong  square,  thir- 
ty-five feet  by  ninety,  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  lot 
of  120  feet  square.  Trees  of  thick  foliage,  and  fragrant 
shrubs  and  bushes,  overspread  and  lined  the  walks,  im- 
parting the  deliciousness  and  purity  of  a  country  atmos- 
phere. Being  away  from  the  great  thoroughfares  of 
business  favored  yet  more  the  deceit.  The  building  con- 
tained a  basement  and  first  story,  having  each  a  large 
hall  and  a  vestibule.  Numerous  windows  afforded  com- 
plete ventilation.  Each  room  was  fitted  up  to  accom- 
modate forty  persons.  The  basement  was  appropriated 
to  the  males,  and  above  it  to  the  females.  Meals  were 
cooked  in  a  neighboring  house,  occupied  by  the  warden 
of  the  lodge,  whose  family  devoted  themselves  to  further 
the  objects  of  the  institution.  The  nicest  discretion  and 
the  most  watchful  care  were  required  in  the  due  appor- 
tionment of  exercise,  and  of  the  quality  and  quantity  of 
food,  for  the  convalescent.  The  virtue  of  personal  clean- 
liness was  enforced  by  daily  ablutions  and  frequent 
change  of  garments.  The  fetid  odor  which  hangs  about 
the  wards  of  a  fever  hospital  was  not  present  here ;  con- 
sequently the  convalescence  was  rapid.  The  inmates 
were  required  to  do  more  or  less  of  the  domestic  duties, 
and  were  encouraged  to  pass  their  leisure  moments  in 
reading  instructing  or  religious  books.  The  master  spir- 
it of  this  establishment  was  almost  worshiped  by  them. 
When  prepared  to  resume  their  various  pursuits  in  life, 
the  unbidden  tear  gracefully  interpreted  the  full  heart, 
which  could  not  by  words  express  its  gratitude.  Many 
of  them,  who  may  have  been  of  an  abandoned  character 
before  sickness,  doubtless  were  moved  to  a  sense  of  mor- 
al dignity,  and  left  with  firm  resolves  to  become  useful 
members  of  society.  The  degraded  female,  who,  under 
such  circumstances,  feels  strongly  the  shame  of  her  past 


292  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

life,  and  never  discloses  the  truth  respecting  it,  may  have 
been  gradually  brought  to  contemplate  the  horror  of 
lustful  insanity,  and  insensibly  inchne  to  a  life  of  labor 
and  propriety ;  for  it  is  when  the  body  is  enfeebled  by 
disease  that  the  passions  which  have  degraded  the  past 
life  are  as  indifferent  to  temptation  as  to  indulgence,  and 
the  mind  susceptible  to  wholesome  impressions,  which, 
if  ceaselessly  held  up  to  contemplation,  with  encourage- 
ment and  assistance  to  procure  an  honest  livelihood,  the 
effects  are  lasting.  As  a  school  for  moral  reform,  it  pre- 
sents itself  as  the  only  theatre  for  completeness  of  de- 
sign. With  such  results,  as  likely  in  reason  to  flow  from 
such  an  institution,  the  advantage  of  creating  a  similar 
one  wherever  there  is  a  j)ublic  hospital  forces  itself  sug- 
gestively upon  the  philanthropist. 

During  an  epidemic  infirmaries  and  hospitals  are  ex- 
clusively devoted  to  curing  the  disease,  and  not  to  the 
complete  restoration  of  health.  As  soon  as  the  patient 
gains  strength  to  walk,  he  is  discharged.  On  such  occa- 
sions he  is  directed  to  our  association  for  board  and 
lodging  until  he  is  able  to  resume  his  avocation.  The 
due-bill  which  is  given  to  him  for  two  weeks'  expenses 
is  generally  suffi.cient ;  when  it  has  proved  otherwise,  we 
have  extended  it.  So  numerous  was  this  class  before 
the  estabhshment  of  the  Convalescent  Infirmary  that, 
with  our  other  engagements,  it  was  impossible  for  us  to 
watch  the  result,  or  guard  the  patient  from  excess  in  his 
indulgence.  Imprudence  frequently  followed  license, 
and,  from  absence  of  proper  restraint,  the  mortality  was 
considerably  augmented.  The  difficulty  of  obtaining  a 
simple  diet,  the  temptation  to  indulge  in  rich  and  sea- 
soned dishes,  and  the  indifference  of  the  landlords  to 
their  fate,  provoked  the  convalescents  to  an  untimely 
end.  I  had  occasion  to  inquire  into  the  condition  of 
several  who  I  found  had  disappointed  the  watchful 
cares  of  a  protracted  illness  by  one  or  other  of  the  above 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN".  293 

causes.  When  I  brought  to  my  recollection  the  earnest 
desire  to  live  which  some  had  exhibited,  enlisting  a  sym- 
pathy in  their  future  that  gladdened  the  heart  to  see 
that  the  hope  was  to  be  realized ;  then  to  have  it  an- 
nounced that  the  anxious  one  had,  for  lack  of  an  advis- 
ing friend,  suddenly  lapsed  into  eternity  before  the  good 
he  contemplated  had  begun  to  be  accomplished,  a  mor- 
tification at  the  untoward  result  dimmed  the  pleasure  of 
a  whole  day's  work.  Often,  as  I  passed  the  cot  in  which 
they  lay  at  the  hospital,  or  the  house  of  their  fatal  re- 
lapse, a  rehearsal  of  past  events  associated  vividly  pre- 
sented themselves.  So  frequent  and  impressive  was  this 
the  case  that,  in  the  waking  hours  of  the  night,  my  mind 
seemed  to  be  more  engaged  in  sympathy  for  the  lost 
hopes  of  the  dead  than  in  the  cares  for  the  distressed 
living. 

In  the  month  of  October  it  was  announced  that  the 
remaining  convalescents  would,  on  a  certain  day,  be  in  a 
condition  to  be  discharged,  and  that  the  day  after  a  col- 
lation would  be  spread  in  joy  thereof  About  twenty- 
five  sat  down  to  a  table  which  was  furnished  by  the 
warden's  family  with  all  the  nice  essentials  of  Creole 
cookery.  What  was  solemn  in  our  past  duties  was  turn- 
ed into  ridicule,  and  each  one  endeavored  by  such  means 
to  destroy  sad  recollections,  even  to  the  extent  of  dispar- 
aging the  service  rendered.  Compliments  or  commenda- 
tions would  have  been  received  as  insults.  We  toasted 
each  other,  sneeringly,  of  duties  rendered;  we  toasted  the 
remarkable  ones  that  survived  after  long  sickness,  and 
we  toasted  the  dead.  The  latter  alone  commanded  our 
silent  respect.  As  a  finale,  each  man  filled  his  glass; 
standing  up,  he  jingled  his  with  others  in  his  reach,  and 
drank  "  Thanks  to  God  for  the  exit  of  this  pestilence." 

On  the  18th  of  September  all  the  employes  of  the  Globe 
were  engaged  in  removing  to  a  basement  room  such  un- 
soiled  beds,  bedding,  and  furniture  as  we  intended  to  do- 


294  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

nate  to  tlie  insane  and  other  asylums.  "What  was  unfit 
for  use,  and  likely  to  breed  infection,  it  was  thought,  at 
any  future  time,  was  sent,  together  with  a  cart-load  of 
old  clothes,  to  the  swamp  to  be  burned.  The  cotton 
cloths  which  overhung  the  mirrors,  to  prevent  the  sick 
from  being  frighted  at  the  reflection  of  their  ghastly 
features,  were  taken  down.  The  canvas  partitions  were 
dropped.  The  windows  and  floors  were  washed  and 
scrubbed.  Burned  coffee  and  sugar  filled  the  rooms  with 
a  perfume  that  dispossessed  the  curtains  of  their  infec- 
tious quality,  and  on  the  next  morning  the  atmosphere 
of  the  building  had  recovered  its  former  purity.  Barring 
the  lines  of  black  vomit  which  marked  the  position  of 
the  cots,  and  so  stained  the  floor  that  nothing  short  of 
the  plane  could  obliterate  them,  the  entu^e  building  was 
in  as  good  order  and  condition  as  we  received  it. 

To  conform  to  the  custom  in  closing  other  infirmaries, 
we  prepared  for  our  feast  of  joy  at  the  end  of  our  la- 
bors. 

Being,  from  observation  and  experience,  satisfied  that 
the  chemistry  of  cooking  has  virtues  in  it  more  inviting 
in  hygiene  than  the  medical  mani23ulations  of  minerals 
and  medicines,  it  was  an  important  requisite  that  a  cook 
of  the  first  class  should  be  had.  The  one  I  obtained 
was  not  only  skilled  in  extracting  the  nourishing  quali- 
ties from  meat  or  vegetables,  and  in  the  due  seasoning 
of  gruel  and  food  for  the  different  stages  of  convales- 
cence, but  also  sustained  her  reputation  for  appetizing 
entremets  and  provoking  pastries.  I  did  not  hesitate  to 
give  her  the  highest  wages ;  and  I  justified  my  extrava- 
gance to  the  mayor  and  other  of&cials,  who  sometimes 
visited  us  at  night,  by  submitting  to  their  judgment  and 
gout  her  dainty  cooking.  Having  sufficient  quantity  of 
the  best  wines  left,  I  was  sure  to  bear  off  the  laurel  for 
giving  the  completest  feast. 

The  number  of  guests  was  limited  to  thirty,  which  in- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  295 

eluded  tlie  privileged  visitors  and  tlie  physicians.  The 
funeral  of  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  E.  W.  Hill,  prevent- 
ed the  attendance  of  more  than  fifteen.  From  those  who 
had  never  visited  the  rooms  when  filled  with  the  sick 
and  dying,  I  expected  no  show  or  feeling  of  repugnance. 
Of  these  were  several  whom  I  had  invited,  no  less  from 
esteem  than  from  an  experience  of  their  entertaining 
talents.  It  was,  above  all,  necessary  that  scenes  which 
had  raised  our  sympathies  to  a  painful  degree  should 
not  be  recalled  without  being  combated  by  care-dispel- 
ling wit.  We  were  for  the  time  to  rejoice  that  grim- 
visaged  death  had  here  met  a  repulse,  albeit  his  victims 
were  numerous ;  to  exchange  congratulations  that  it  had 
fallen  to  our  lot  to  smooth  the  pillow  of  the  sad  and  dis- 
consolate waning  spirit,  and  to  return  to  usefulness  many 
grateful  subjects.  Excepting  the  hated  death-stains  on 
the  floor,  naught  else  to  the  eye  invited  mournful  mem- 
ories. One  of  our  guests,  whom  I  principally  counted 
upon  for  his  well-known  convivial  qualities,  was  the  first 
to  arrive.  His  face  wore  its  wonted  wreath  of  smiles, 
and  indexed  a  generous  liver.  He  entered  the  room 
with  the  conscious  ^ir  of  one  who  defied  rivalry  in  gibes 
and  jests.  The  appearance  of  the  ball-room,  with  a  ta- 
ble in  the  centre  covered  with  borrowed  silver  and 
glass,  and  bouquets  of  fragrant  flowers,  over  the  whole 
of  which  fell  variegated  rays  reflected  by  the  setting 
sun  from  prisms  pendent  from  the  chandeliers,  while  the 
latter  imitated  clusters  of  precious  stones,  was  likely  to 
impress  a  guest  of  the  admirable  fitness  of  the  room  for 
a  festive  entertainment.  By  way  of  pastime,  I  thought 
to  introduce  my  guest  to  a  knowledge  of  the  various 
uses  to  which  we  had  put  the  several  apartments.  No 
man  knows  the  strength  of  his  nerves,  or  the  force  with 
which  imagination  can  elevate  or  depress  him,  until  he 
has  undergone  a  practical  test.  Knowing  our  friend 
was  gifted  with  wit,  I  should  have  remembered,  in  kind- 


296  DIAHY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN. 

ness  to  him,  that  he  was  proportionally  endowed  with 
its  twin  faculty,  imagination.  As  I  walked  him  through- 
out the  building,  I  explained  the  arrangement  of  the  cots, 
and  thoughtlessly  directed  his  attention  to  their  exact 
position  by  the  lines  of  black  vomit  on  the  floor.  I 
showed  the  spot  where  the  dying  were  placed  on  mat- 
tresses on  the  floor,  and  pointed  out  spittle  ejected  by 
them,  which  disfigured  the  walls  to  the  ceihng.  Meet- 
ing with  no  interruption,  I  thought  his  interest  in  my 
discourse  kept  him  silent,  until  he  surprised  me  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence  by  turning  full  upon  me,  and  ask- 
ing if  "I  had  a  design  upon  his  life."  I  saw  by  the 
livid  hue  of  his  countenance  and  settled  features  that  I 
had  entertained  him  ad  nauseam,  and  instantly  set  about 
retrieving  my  error.  My  first  impulse  was  to  lead  him 
on  the  gallery  near  by,  where  the  fresh  air  could  perco- 
late his  thin  locks,  and  his  eye  could  be  refreshed  with 
the  green  of  the  adjoining  park;  my  next,  to  hasten  for 
a  glass  of  sovereign  balm  in  cholera.  He  was  shortly 
himself  again,  and  now  braved  complete  explanation. 
Thenceforward  I  was  corrected  in  intruding  my  experi- 
ence of  the  horrors  of  the  pestilenco*  uninvited.  When 
urged  to  do  so,  the  truthful  details  have  blanched  the 
cheek  of  many  a  listener.  Even  the  most  pleasing  cases 
which  I  have  briefly  chronicled  in  these  pages  have  to 
be  shorn  of  much  that  would  make  them  repulsive. 

Our  party  sat  down  at  six  o'clock.  The  soups,  viands, 
entremets,  and  dessert  were  artistically  served  before  us. 
Every  adjunct  to  satisfy  the  appetite  and  to  raise  the 
spirits  was  at  hand,  yet  a  gloom  hung  over  every  one 
of  us  unhke  we  had  ever  before  experienced  under  sim- 
ilar circumstances.  Attempts  were  made  to  poke  fun  at 
each  other,  but  the  results  were  stillborn.  We  finally 
fell  into  an  argumentative  conversation,  which  frequent 
libations  could  not  turn.  In  less  than  an  hour  and  a 
half,  the  feast,  which  in  every  resjDect  was  fashioned  to 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITAN".  297 

eclipse  all  preceding  it  of  similar  character,  was  ended. 
The  studiously -prepared  dishes  were  merely  tasted ;  the 
wines  alone  received  a  complimentary  attention.  Be- 
fore parting  we  responded  to  several  general  toasts,  and 
closed  our  sad  failure  by  dashing  the  floor  with  Cham- 
pagne, thus  formally  resigning  to  Terpsichore  the  apart- 
ments of  joy  which  Pluto  and  his  kindred  spirits  had 
invaded. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

Disappearance  of  the  Epidemic. — The  last  Cases. — La  Ceinture  Doree. 

More  than  two  months  had  elapsed  since  I  sent  home 
to  her  family  the  runaway  whom  I  had  snatched  from^ 
certain  perdition.  The  month  of  October  imperatively 
called  many  to  the  scene  of  their  business,  regardless  of 
risk  from  the  subtle  poison  that  yet  lingered  in  the  at- 
mosphere. A  frost,  which  commonly  destroys  its  effect, 
had  not  yet  made  its  appearance.  Those  who  had  so  far 
escaped  the  disease  had  strong  assurance  that  they  would 
pass  the  season  unscathed.  Should  they  be  drawn  into 
its  influence,  the  chances  were  that  the  result  would 
prove  fatal,  as  the  latest  attacks  have  always  been  so. 
A  more  invigorating  atmosphere  by  day,  exhibiting  lit- 
tle of  thermometrical  difference  between  sunshine  and 
shade,  rendered  the  visit  of  the  unacclimated  compara- 
tively safer  from  attack  than  the  summer  resident,  whose 
system  was  more  or  less  impregnated  with  the  disease. 
The  epidemic  of  1853  had  outrun  its  predecessors  in  du- 
ration. Sixty  days  was  its  allotted  course.  It  had  not 
spent  all  its  force  until  after  ninety  days.  The  busy 
note  of  preparation  for  the  fall  business  was  apparent  in 
heavy  arrivals  of  produce  and  goods.  The  streets  be- 
came enlivened  with  gay  and  thoughtful  promenaders. 
N2 


298  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

Families,  wliicli  liad  waited  patiently  and  in  sufferance 
for  encouragement  to  leave  their  now  uncomfortable 
sea-sliore  residences,  dashed  gayly  through  the  streets  in 
their  carriages  or  phaetons,  thronging  the  fashionable  re- 
sorts of  Olympe  and  Fryer  for  fall  novelties.  The  con- 
gratulations of  new-comers  and  the  joy  of  the  residents 
dissipated  everj  reminiscence  of  heart-rending  scenes. 
Yellow  fever  was  avoided  as  a  topic  by  those  who  had 
suffered  from  it  or  by  it.  The  members  of  the  associa- 
tion in  many  districts  had  long  since  made  their  last  calls 
to  the  convalescent,  and  furnished  complete  records  of 
their  work  to  the  secretary.  Each  went  his  way  to  his 
respective  vocation :  some  to  meet  thenceforth,  and  at 
long  intervals,  on  the  levee  or  street,  with  a  hurried 
nod  of  recognition  ;  others  so  confined  to  their  peculiar 
pursuits  that  they  were  not  seen  again  until  a  like  occa- 
sion or  a  meeting  of  the_ association  brought  them  to- 
gether. Our  advertisement  had  gone  forth  that  no  new 
cases  would  be  taken  by  us ;  yet,  if  any  presented  them- 
selves, we  were  charged  with  sending  them  to  the  Ilai- 
S071  de  Sante^  or  Charity  Hospital,  where  a  per  diem  was 
paid  for  our  sick  in  wards  exclusively  appropriated  to 
them.  After  the  epidemic  had  exhausted  itself  in  other 
parts  of  the  city,  the  rear  of  my  district,  on  the  borders 
of  the  Swamp,  suddenly  became  the  theatre  of  its  viru- 
lence and  exodus.  One  would  have  judged,  from  the 
miserable  tenements  and  their  occupants,  and  the  filth 
that  generally  accumulates  there,  that  the  poison  would 
have  first  generated  amid  them.  It  was  certainly  more 
fatal.  As  our  labors  were  closed  elsewhere,  the  greater 
part  were  sent  to  the  hospital.  When  resistance  was 
made  to  this,  we  consented  to  furnish  physician,  medi- 
cines, and  support,  provided  the  relatives  or  inmates 
would  act  as  nurses.  The  objection  on  the  part  of  the 
poor  to  be  treated  in  hospitals,  constructed  as  they  are 
now,  with  wards  containing  twenty  or  more  cots,  is  nat- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  299 

iiral  and  reasonable.  It  is  assuming  too  mnch.  for  the 
richer  and  better  educated  class  to  say  that  they  alone 
are  sensitive  to  extraneous  influences.  Imagination 
magnifies  terrors  during  sickness,  and  the  shock  on  wit- 
nessing suffering  and  death  agonies  is  as  strong  and  as 
prejudicial  to  recovery  alike  to  all  mankind.  I  have 
not  wondered  that  the  patient  who  only  required  a  com- 
posed mind  and  undisturbed  repose  at  proper  times  has 
relapsed,  and  been  himself  the  provoking  cause  of  death 
in  another.  At  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  these 
twenty -four  patients  in  a  ward  call  for  attention  to  their 
wants.  They  are  commonly  such  wants  as  are  offens- 
ive to  the  sense.  When  this  is  unabated,  and  the 
death-rattles  and  vomit  are  loudly  manifested,  it  is  al- 
most a  miracle  that  any  within  sight  or  hearing  recov- 
er. The  effects  of  all  these  might,  in  a  measure,  be  re- 
pelled by  hanging  curtains  between  the  cots.  The  of- 
fensiveness  that  then  arose  from  each  patient  would  pass 
above,  instead  of  spreading  around,  and  more  quickly 
escape  through  the  let-down  windows.  The  eye,  not  at- 
tracted to  the  sufferings  of  others,  would  close  to  neces- 
sary repose  in  spite  of  the  wonted  sounds  in  the  room. 
As  I  have  before  remarked,  I  believe  the  effort  of  think- 
ing, the  indulgence  in  conversation,  or  any  exciting 
cause  for  the  imagination  to  take  hold  of,  are  dangerous 
to  convalescence.  Attention  to  these  is  the  secret  of 
cure  in  private  practice,  and  they  should  be  studiously 
enforced  in  our  public  hospitals. 

On  the  6th  of  October,  in  the  afternoon,  the  following 
note,  written  in  pencil,  in  a  neat  but  tremulous  hand, 
was  given  at  my  door : 

"  I  beg  Mr. to  remember  the  promise  he  made 

me,  that  if  I  should  be  taken  sick  he  would  attend  me. 
Please  come  soon,  if  only  for  a  minute. 

"  Emily ,  Ko. Street." 


300  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

I  did  remember,  and  called  to  me  the  bearer  of  the 
note.  I  was  pleased  to  find  that  it  was  an  experienced 
Creole  nurse,  whose  attendance  rarely  failed  to  place  the 
patient  on  his  feet.  After  I  had  given  my  promise  to 
call  upon  Emily  immediately,  the  nurse  desired  to  know 
if  I  would  be  responsible  for  the  payment  of  her  serv- 
ices, as  she  feared  the  patient  had  nothing  to  give  her. 
Knowing  her  price  to  be  exorbitant,  more  than  twice  as 
much  as  we  paid  generally,  I  proposed  to  engage  her  at 
two  dollars  and  a  half  for  the  twenty-four  hours.  The 
pleasant  expression  that  I  had  always  seen  in  her  coun- 
tenance suddenly  gave  way  to  a  haughty  surprise.  "  Do 
you  think,"  she  said,  "  that  I  would  level  myself  to  ordi- 
nary nurses  ?  If  you  can  not  pay  my  fixed  rates,  please 
say  so ;  but  you  hurt  my  feelings  by  knowing  so  little 
of  me."  I  gave  her  to  understand  that  it  was  not  a 
matter  of  feehng,  but  of  business,  and  that  I  would  be 
responsible  for  no  more  than  I  had  mentioned.  "Then," 
said  she,  "  I  will  look  to  Heaven  for  my  reward,  for  I 
have  taken  an  interest  in  the  girl,  and  should  never  dis- 
tress her  for  pay." 

I  called  to  see  Emily  at  dusk.  The  front  door  was 
open.  Eacilis  descensus.  I  walked  into  the  front  par- 
lor, and  rapping  with  my  cane  on  the  table,  I  soon 
raised  the  sounds  of  aj)proaching  footsteps.  I  found  I 
was  addressed  by  the  same  mistress  of  the  house  who 
was  here  when  the  "runaway"  was  visited  by  me. 
When  she  was  told  of  the  purpose  of  my  visit,  and  rec- 
ognized in  me  the  same  person  who  had  called  previ- 
ously on  a  similar  errand,  she  gathered  herself  up  with 
dignity,  and  assumed  an  expression  of  danger  and  re- 
sistance, forcibly  reminding  me,  in  her  rotundity  of  figure 
and  arms  akimbo,  of  the  alarm  and  watchfulness  of  the 
hen  who  guards  her  -pYogenj  from  the  hawk  soaring 
overhead. 

"You  can  not  see  Emily,  &ir — jou  can  not  see  her. 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  301 

We  are  not  beggars  here,  and  seek  not  your  visits  or 
your  charity.  I  can  take  care  of  my  own  sick.  You 
should  be  satisfied  with  having  once  insulted  me  by  en- 
tering my  house.  You  shall  not  have  another  chance 
of  making  a  hospital  of  my  house,  and  decoying  my 
boarders  away  from  me." 

I  read  Emily's  note. 

"  Note  or  no  note — and  a  fig  for  her  permission — ^I 
tell  you  I  shall  exercise  my  rights  in  my  own  house, 
and  you  shall  not  see  her." 

Upon  this  her  bulky  figure  removed  from  the  door- 
way, by  insinuation  inviting  my  exit.  Here  was  a  rebuff 
that  set  me  for  the  moment  hors  de  combat.  I  knew  she 
had  the  right  to  refuse  me  admission,  and  was  about  leav- 
ing, when  it  occurred  to  me  to  bring  the  fear  of  the  re- 
corder before  her  eyes.  In  an  authoritative  tone  I  ex- 
plained to  her  that  we  were  an  incorporated  body,  and  had 
privileges  higher  than  the  law,  and  that,  if  she  attempt- 
ed to  interfere  with  the  prosecution  of  my  duties,  I  would 
bring  an  officer  to  enforce  my  demands  at  her  expense. 
This  expedient  soothed  her  into  an  ungraceful  acquies- 
cence. Our  loud  talking  had  in  the  mean  time  gather- 
ed several  of  the  inmates  at  the  door,  some  of  whom, 
having  seen  me  on  my  previous  visit,  addressed  me  by 
name,  and  directed  me  to  the  room  occupied  by  Emily. 
I  opened  the  door,  shut  it  behind  me,  and  found  myself 
alone  with  her.  As  she  held  her  hand  to  me,  with  the 
imploring  and  anxious  gaze  of  the  fevered,  I  strove  to 
bring  her  to  my  recollection.  The  flushed  face  and  di- 
sheveled hair  would  have  disguised  one  even  more  fa- 
miliar to  me ;  but  when  I  heard  her  note  of  welcome  in 
the  familiar  voice  that  recalled  to  me  "  Mary's  friend,"  I 
recognized  her  fully.  She  had  been  sick  for  thirty -six 
hours,  and  was  not  apparently  a  hopeless  case.  The 
physician  who  attended  her  was  more  than  ordinarily 
successful  in  his  practice.     This  I  told  her,  as  also  that 


802  DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

I  was  glad  to  see  she  had  secured  so  excellent  a  nurse. 
When  I  regarded  her  again,  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 
This  was  no  period  for  desultory  conversation.  What 
little  was  to  be  said  must  be  cheering  to  the  spirits. 

''So  I  have  you  at  last,  Emily,"  said  I.  "I  thank 
you  for  the  opportunity  of  serving  you.  You  shall  get 
well  quickly.  Every  thing  betokens  it.  Why,  you  look 
now  as  rosy  as  the  Groddess  of  Health  herself!" 

A  mournful  attempt  at  a  smile  flickered  around  her 
mouth.  She  looked  intently  upon  me  as  I  felt  her  pulse 
and  forehead,  as  if  to  read  her  fate  in  my  tutored  coun- 
tenance. Her  pulse  reached  only  90,  and  the  skin  at 
her  wrist  was  moist.  The  tongue  indicated  the  inflam- 
matory nature  of  the  attack.  Her  eye  was  yet  injected, 
and  more  distrait  or  anxious  in  expression  than  is  com- 
mon to  the  accompanying  symj^toms.  The  latter  may 
have  been  aggravated  by  grief.  As  I  dropped  a  few 
words  of  comfort  and  hope,  tears  bubbled  again  from 
the  corners  of  her  eyes.  She  pointed  to  her  heart,  say- 
ing, "I  do  not  want  relief  to  this  miserable  body  so 
much  as  here.  'Tis  here  that  I  am  sick."  I  turned  on 
my  heel  and  laughed  at  what  I  deemed  a  misplaced 
avowal.  "If  that  is  all,"  I  replied,  "your  case  is  not  a 
desperate  one ;  a  few  days  more,  and  you  will  be  per- 
mitted to  see  this  troubler  of  your  peace.  You  must 
love  him  mightily."  "  Oh !  no,  sir,  you  do  not  under- 
stand me ;  I  thought  better  of  you ;  and  it  is  cruel  in 
you  to  mock  me  thus." 

She  relapsed  into  a  thoughtful  silence,  and  appeared 
wounded  at  my  levity. 

Society  entertains  the  opinion  that  when  a  woman 
lapses  in  chastity,  and  scandalizes  the  public  ear  or 
eye  with  her  sin,  all  the  properties  of  her  soul  partake 
of  its  corruption.  A  fille  'perdue  must  necessarily  be  a 
creature  of  mere  sense,  of  animal  propensities,  to  whom 
love,  benevolence,  religion,  and  even  hope  exist  but  in 


DIARY   OF  A  SAMARITAN.  803 

name,  and  are  as  sealed  things.  Society  so  judges,  and 
it  must  be  so.  As  many  as  are  made  desperate  from 
their  loss  of  self-respect,  and  rapidly  course  through  their 
career  in  drunkenness  and  bestial  indulgence,  yet  there 
are  many  in  whom  the  same  cause  creates  a  hate  of  the 
sin  by  which  they  fell,  and  a  repentant  spirit  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  other  virtues.  There  is  no  sin  in  man  that  en- 
gulfs in  such  misery  as  the  loss  of  virtue  in  woman. 
The  charity  of  the  world  provides  nothing  for  her  re- 
demption from  the  first  step.  Instead  of  being  dragged 
from  the  flames  that  threaten  to  consume  her,  its  harsh 
edict  forces  her  within  their  annihilating  influence.  The 
ear  of  God  is  deemed  inaccessible  to  her,  though,  were 
the  sore  hidden  from  public  ken,  and  the  powder  of  the 
Church  sprinkled  over  it,  the  contamination  from  con- 
tact would  be  destroyed,  and  she  might  yet  be  what  she 
seems.  There  is  a  sentiment  in  the  human  breast  of 
faith  in  promises  instilled  in  early  youth,  and  a  good- 
ness instinctively  its  own,  that  the  mere  indulgence 
in  one  sin  can  not  eradicate.  The  whirl  of  licentious 
passions  may  deaden  its  sense  in  its  earthly  tabernacle 
for  years,  but  this  germ  of  the  soul's  reproduction  in  a 
future  life  "still  lives."  Kindness  and  sympathy,  when 
the  body  is  prostrated  by  disease,  revivify  it;  neglect, 
reproaches,  and  ridicule  depress  it  with  leaden  influ- 
ence. 

I  felt  that  such  a  one  lay  before  me. 

"Emily,"  said  I,  "if  you  have  any  thing  that  weighs 
upon  your  mind,  out  with  it,  and  relieve  yourself  and 
me.  I  am  disposed  to  serve  you,  but  must  know  how. 
If  you  would  make  my  services  agreeable  to  me,  I  must 
be  met  with  smiles,  not  tears  and  despondency.  Be 
brief,  then,  and  tell  me  how  I  can  serve  you.  If  your 
story  is  long,  I  would  prefer  postponing  it." 

"  Hear  me  now,"  she  said ;  "I  can  not  defer.  I  came 
to  the  city  last  fall ;  from  whence  or  why,  I  wish  to  for- 


804  DIAKY  OF  A  SAMAEITAX. 

get.  I  have  run  througli  all  tlie  dissipations  of  the  mis- 
erable life  I  have  been  leading.  I  am  forgotten  by  all 
that  ever  knew  good  of  me,  and  I  hate  myself  I  have 
ever  had  the  presentiment  that  if  I  had  the  yellow  fever  I 
should  die.  I  do  not  want  to  live  longer,  but  I  want  to 
die  good  and  repentant,  and  this  desire  possessed  me 
ever  since  your  attendance  here  on  Mary.  We  spoke 
confidently  to  each  other.  I  thwarted  designs  upon  her 
the  night  she  arrived,  and  counseled  her  against  the  step 
she  was  about  to  take.  Since  she  left  I  have  lived  an 
altered  life.  My  heart  was  my  own,  though  my  body 
was  prostituted  for  a  support.  I  hoped  to  save  enough 
to  follow  Mary,  who  promised  that  she  would  place  me 
where  I  could  conceal  my  shame  and  live  a  better 
woman." 

"Had  you,"  I  asked,  "no  friend  to  assist  you  imme- 
diately?" 

"Me?  me?  Do  such  as  we  have  friends?"  she  re- 
plied. "  Oh  no !  I  believe  the  more  a  man  sees  of  us 
unhappy  creatures,  the  more  he  despises  us  and  out 
sex." 

Seeing  she  was  excited,  I  interrupted  her,  saying  that 
I  would  listen  to  a  continuation  of  what  she  had  to  say 
some  other  time,  as  to  prolong  the  conversation  would 
certainly  make  her  worse.  At  that  moment  the  mistress 
of  the  house  entered.  I  took  my  leave,  and  encounter- 
ed the  nurse  in  the  hall,  who  gave  me  assurance  that  the 
patient  was  a  manageable  one,  and  the  result  promising. 

As  I  descended  the  stairs  I  saw  several  of  her  fellow- 
boarders  in  the  corridor.  They  invited  me  into  the  par- 
lor. On  the  centre-table  was  a  bottle  of  Champagne,  of 
which  they  insisted  upon  my  partaking.  "  Now  tell  us 
how  Emily  is,"  was  the  simultaneous  ejaculation  of  sev- 
eral. "Doing  well,"  said  I ;  "very  well ;  but  be  cautious 
in  disturbing  or  talking  to  her."  "  Talking  to  her !"  said 
one ;  "  why,  she  will  not  even  notice  us  with  a  reply, 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMAEITA]^.  805 

wliicli  is  strange  in  her,  for  slie  always  was  the  happiest 
and  gayest  girl  of  us  all." 

"Happiest?"  said  I,  as  I  looked  at  the  speaker  and 
touched  her  glass  with  mine.  She  made  no  reply.  I 
saw  I  had  touched  a  chord  of  mournful  note.  Emily's 
health  was  given  and  drunk.  All  seemed  awed  by  my 
presence  into  a  respect  which  was  not  agreeable  to  me. 
By  restraining  their  indulgence  in  the  customary  jollity 
of  Champagne-drinking,  they  set  me  an  example  of  def- 
erence paid  to  the  presence  of  a  sick  person  in  the  house. 
On  finishing  the  wine  I  took  my  leave. 

I  shall  not  assume  the  mock  modesty  of  most  men  in 
feigning  ignorance  of  the  character  and  manners  of  such 
women.  They  force  themselves  upon  our  observation 
in  the  highways  of  fashion,  ever  presenting  a  contrast  of 
some  kind  or  other  to  respectable  people.  They  are  the 
first  to  herald  a  new  fashion,  for  it  brings  them  more 
prominently  to  notice.  Coquetry  and  studied  arts,  ap- 
plied with  an  acute  intuitive  perception  of  the  weak 
points  in  a  man ;  in  many,  a  refinement  of  language,  ease 
of  manners,  and  grace  which  elevates  the  exceptional 
beauty  in  power  to  a  level  with  her  superiors  in  virtue, 
make  them  as  inviting  to  admiration  as  they  are  danger- 
ous to  encounter.  The  estimation  these  held  me  in 
caused  them  to  manifest  a  naturalness  of  behavior  which 
would  deceive  a  novice,  but  gave  me  an  insight  to  their 
real  character.  Though  jealous  and  envious  of  each 
other  to  an  extreme — though  they  find  no  friendly  ear 
to  receive  the  secret  thoughts  which  ask  for  sympathy, 
but  each  goes  independently  through  her  avocations,  yet, 
when  sickness  hovers  around  one  of  them^  or  the  hand 
of  Death  threatens  to  snatch  her  away,  all  fly  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  sufferer  with  their  last  dollar,  and  present  a 
wonderful  contrast  of  feeling  and  humanity  to  lost  virtue 
and  the  character  given  them  in  the  world.  There  ex- 
ists a  Puritanical  sense  of  delicacy  which  would  shut  us 


306  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN. 

from  the  Scriptures  because  of  the  Song  of  Solomon — a 
sense  that  is  shocked  at  the  sight  of  Power's  Greek  Slave, 
because  there  are  developed  the  graceful  outlines  of  the 
body  which  are  conventionally  hid.  "  To  the  pure  all 
things  are  jDure."  In  a  civilized  age  such  as  ours,  where 
research  and  investigation  in  morals  and  physics  know 
no  barrier  to  j)rogress,  I  require  no  apology  to  write  free- 
ly my  observations.  I  introduce  the  subject  as  well  to 
hold  up  the  vice  to  detestation  as  to  agitate  suggestive 
remedies  for  an  evil  that  is  fearfully  invading  the  jDcace 
of  families.  If  it  can  not  be  arrested  in  its  inception, 
measures  at  least  should  be  taken  to  assist  the  fallen  one 
from  a  hopeless  misery.  These  women  have  souls  which 
one  sin  can  not  shear  of  all  redeeming  qualities.  They 
have  feeling  which  is  sufficiently  sensitive  to  the  shame  of 
their  condition  without  the  scorn  and  persecution  of  their 
kind.  They  have  a  right  to  be  considered  and  treated 
as  human  beings.  Laws  should  be  instituted  app''icable 
to  their  case  to  improve  and  to  redeem  them.  As  they 
barter  their  love,  they  should  pay  a  license  to  the  state 
for  indulgence.  When  they  have  sunk  so  low  by  de- 
bauchery that  they  become  dangerous  to  society  and  are 
incapable  of  supporting  themselves,  they  should  be  placed 
in  establishments  which,  in  providing  a  home  for  them, 
might  be  made  the  means  of  bringing  them  to  repent- 
ance and  usefulness. 

Men  pride  themselves  on  their  chivalry ;  they  can  ex- 
hibit their  championship  in  nothing  more  beneficial  and 
exemiplary  than  in  alleviating  the  misery  of  those  whom 
they  have  been  mainly  instrumental  in  ruining  by  their 
encouragement  of  the  vice.  Women  must  feel  deeply 
humiliated  in  dwelling  upon  the  degradation  that  a  ]Dor- 
tion  of  their  sex  is  reduced  to,  and  should  not  be  silent 
spectators  in  efforts  to  elevate  their  fallen  sisters.  Strong 
in  virtue  themselves,  they  need  have  no  fear  from  con- 
tact with  the  latter,  while  their  counsel  and  encourage- 


DIAEY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  807 

ment  would  possess  tenfold  the  force  of  men.  A  work 
of  this  nature  is  begun  in  this  country  in  the  establish- 
ment of  the  "  Order  of  the  Good  Shepherd."  It  has 
proved  its  virtue  in  France ;  it  has  produced  its  good 
fruits  in  Kew  Orleans.  Here  women  whose  thoughts 
even  are  unruffled  by  sin  shut  themselves  from  the 
world,  and  are  exclusively  devoted  to  the  object  of  re- 
deeming the  penitent  fallen  one.  Habits  of  industry  are 
gently  enforced,  which,  after  several  months'  exclusion 
from  temptation,  with  daily  devotional  exercise,  enable 
them  to  make  a  living,  and  lead  a  decent  life  in  some 
place  distant  from  the  scene  of  their  guilt.  There  is  a 
wide  distinction  in  these  fallen  ones.  One  half  owe  their 
degradation  to  very  early  indulgence ;  their  associations 
up  to  girlhood,  the  education  of  their  thoughts,  are  self- 
ish and  sensual.  Advice  is  thrown  away  upon  them ; 
sympathy  is  ridiculed  by  them.  They  are  reckless  of 
the  future,  and  die  in  dirt  and  disease,  scarcely  conscious 
of  an  existence  beyond  animal  indulgence.  The  other 
half  have  been  raised  in  virtue.  There  is  an  intensity 
of  expression  in  the  language  of  the  best  class  of  the  lat- 
ter that  strikingly  exhibits  the  strength  and  peculiarities 
of  the  sex  at  large,  for  they  do  not  restrain  themselves 
in  freely  speaking  their  thoughts  on  men  and  things. 
They  know  the  low  fellow  from  the  well-bred  at  a 
glance.  Mustache  and  jewelry  do  not  inspire  favor, 
having  paid  too  dear  for  their  experience  to  be  foiled  by 
such  bawbles.  The  want  of  good  manners  in  entering 
their  presence  with  covered  head,  with  tooth-pick  be- 
tween the  teeth,  or  with  cigar  in  mouth,  is  a  fatal  pres- 
tige of  disgust.  They  are  sensitive  to  any  insult  which 
society  declares  such,  and  feel  the  compliment  of  a  re- 
spectful manner.  They  know  what  is  thought  of  them 
without  being  reminded  of  it  by  rude  words  or  acts. 
When  they  imdertake  by  intrigue,  open  or  covert,  to 
play  upon  the  weakness  of  man,  their  wits  never  fail  to 


808  DIARY  OF  A  SAMAllITAlsr. 

bring  to  tlieir  feet  the  young,  the  mature,  or  old,  "by 
well-placed  words  of  glozing  courtesy;"  these  wiles  are 
their  vocation  and  study.  Could  but  the  history  of  one 
day  in  a  large  city  be  disclosed,  the  Machiavelian  plots 
of  these  women  and  their  conquests  would  be  as  morti- 
fying to  our  pride  as  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  a  source 
of  laughter  to  them.  We  may  extract  an  arrow  from 
the  sententious  quiver  of  the  Bible  for  confirmation  of 
their  superior  cunning,  which,  after  declaring  that  "  her 
house  is  the  way  of  hell,  going  down  to  the  chambers  of 
death,"  it  tells  us  "  that  her  mouth  is  smoother  than  oil, 
but  her  end  is  as  bitter  as  wormwood."  Volumes  might 
be  written  upon  this. 

Let  us  view  their  condition  and  influence  a  little 
closer.  The  street  is  like  to  a  masquerade.  The  con- 
test for  effect  between  libertinism  and  respectability  is 
displayed  to  the  height  of  absurdity.  Perhaps  the  latter 
would  doff  its  parade  of  the  duchess  if  it  were  aware  of 
its  proximity  to  the  ceinture  doree^  whose  modest  gait 
and  more  studied  taste  in  dress  eclipse  her  in  the  eyes 
of  spectators.  Perhaps  it  would  advance  morality  if  a 
marked  distinction  was  assumed  between  the  two  in 
style  and  extravagance  of  dress.  Respectability  would 
lose  nothing  of  its  charms  by  relapsing  into  plainness 
and  decency,  leaving  the  other  extreme  as  the  distinct- 
ive characteristic  of  vice  and  lewdness.  It  would  do 
more :  it  would  remove  from  the  eye  of  the  virtuous  the 
chief  incentive  to  vice,  for  the  first  fatal  step  in  many  is 
induced  by  the  passion  for  display  and  dress. 

The  "daughters  of  joy"  in  this  country  differ  essen- 
tially in  education  and  habits  from  corresponding  grades 
in  Europe.  Ours  possess  superior  education  and  intelli- 
gence. They  are  more  dissipated  and  extravagant. 
Having  little  regard  for  their  health,  the  attraction  of 
their  charms  is  sooner  gone.  They  have  more  sensi- 
tiveness and  feeling,  with  less  selfishness.     They  kindle 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAK.  809 

a  passion  more  furiously,  but  command  less  permanence 
of  affection.  They  are  toiling  slaves  to  short-lived  in- 
dulgence of  their  passions,  while  the  foreign  class  curb 
theirs  that  they  may  enjoy  them  the  longer.  It  is  an 
exception  in  the  American  to  resort  to  prostitution  for 
the  support  of  her  parents  or  family.  In  Europe  it  is 
common.  One  follows  the  vice  from  necessity,  the  oth- 
er from  interest.  One  courts  pleasure  for  its  Lethean 
virtues,  the  other  seeks  it  for  its  real  gratification  of  the 
senses.  Far  from  adopting  any  pursuit  as  a  pastime 
and  employment,  to  them  also  a  fixed  passion  for  any 
elegant  enjoyment  is  a  paradox.  They  pass  through 
life  within  a  wild  maze  of  uncertainty,  and  symbol,  in 
their  gaudiness  and  being,  the  butterfly  sipping  from 
the  chance  flowers  to  which  it  is  tossed  by  the  winds, 
and  subject  to  be  destroyed  by  the  least  change  in  the 
elements.  "Yivimus  Igeti"  is  their  motto;  ''procul  ab 
angustia,  vivimus  Iseti."  Yet,  as  before  remarked,  there 
is  a  spark  of  divinity,  a  trace  of  early  virtue  in  these 
reckless,  heedless  ephemerals,  which  develops  itself  espe- 
cially on  occasions  of  sickness — which  is  susceptible  of 
being  fanned  by  sympathy,  advice,  and  encouragement 
to  a  shining  light,  to  lead  them  from  a  path  dark  and 
thorny  to  the  forsaken  one,  which  they  will  gladly  pur- 
sue. Who  is  to  heal  their  lacerated  hearts  when  re- 
pentance and  remorse  then  overtake  them  ?  Shall  they 
wait  for  the  heavens  to  open  and  an  angel  to  minister, 
or  may  they  not  more  properly  and  certainly  look  to  the 
exemplars  of  their  own  sex  for  consolation  ?  The  wel- 
fare of  society,  though,  forbids  it !  They  are  prejudged 
without  trial,  without  mercy.  The  most  distressing  pic- 
ture of  humanity  is  to  be  seen  in  the  wards  of  our  Char- 
ity Hospital  appropriated  to  the  sick  of  this  class.  The 
first  degree  of  repentance  is  shown  by  the  shame  they 
manifest  in  concealing  their  faces  on  the  entrance  of  a 
stranger.    Perhaps  the  attendance  and  constant  presence 


810  DIARY  OF  A   SAMARITAN. 

of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  have  their  influence.  To  be 
permitted  to  say  "  sister"  must  have  the  effect  to  human- 
ize them.  It  is  now  and  here  that  reformation,  repent- 
ance, and  good  resolutions  spring.  But  who  steps  forth 
to  encourage,  to  sympathize,  or  to  save  ?  Say  that  the 
poor  sufferer,  enfeebled  by  sickness,  and  the  attractions 
of  her  charms  destroyed,  leaves  the  hospital  cured ;  she 
is  penniless.  Where  is  she  to  go?  She  can  not  ask 
employment,  for  she  has  learned  none,  and,  without  rec- 
ommendation, would  be  hooted  from  our  doors  if  she  ap- 
plied for  menial  service  and  told  her  o'er  true  tale  of 
misfortune.  She  can  not,  even  with  repentance  on  her 
lips,  seek  welcome,  like  the  prodigal  son,  of  the  parents 
she  has  dishonored.  She  is  forced  back  to  her  former 
companions,  who  shut  their  purses  until  she  can  earn  her 
bread.  If  she  has  not  this  resource,  wdth  hunger  and 
starvation  staring  her  in  the  face,  without  a  friendly  shel- 
ter from  the  elements,  enfeebled  in  body,  broken-heart- 
ed, despair  gives  her  resolution.  She  seeks  the  lowest 
of  her  class.  The  excitement  of  desire  is  supplanted  by 
the  bestiality  of  intoxication,  madness  and  death  ensue, 
and  society  is  avenged ! 

Numerous  have  been  such  instances  in  my  experience. 

Success,  then,  to  the  "Order  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd." It  is  a  home  mission  worthy  of  more  of  the  re- 
generating care  of  Christians,  with  more  useful  and  tangi- 
ble benefit  to  society  than  all  real  or  prospective  advan- 
tages in  the  conversion  of  the  heathen ;  for  they  are  flesh 
of  our  flesh,  and  bone  of  our  bone ;  a  humiliating  pic- 
ture of  ourselves,  not  of  savage  nature,  whom  we  should 
be  eager  to  save,  and  when  the  cry  is  for  help !  help ! 

I  have  no  apology  to  make  for  my  earnestness  when- 
ever I  have  been  called  upon  to  bestow  the  charities  of 
the  association  upon  this  class.  My '  sympathies  and 
strivings  have  not  been  so  much  to  save  as  to  smooth 
the  raven  down  of  their  despair.     If  ever  words  of  kind- 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN".  811 

ness  were  medicine  to  the  soul — if  ever  attention  was 
appreciated  in  the  physician  or  the  watcher,  it  is  by 
them.  An  interest  shown  toward  them  awakens  a  fer- 
vent gratitude  bordering  on  adoration. 

I  shall  pass  over  the  particulars  of  a  surprise  which 
was  gotten  up  for  me  on  my  second  visit  to  Emily.  She 
had  been  removed  from  the  room  she  occupied,  by  order 
of  the  physician,  because  of  its  too  great  exposure  to  the 
north  winds.  Learning  that  she  was  asleep,  I  left  to 
return  in  the  evening.  I  ascended  the  steps  at  about 
nine  o'clock  that  night,  without  meeting  or  being  seen 
by  any  one.  Gently  opening  the  door,  my  sudden  ap- 
pearance startled  the  nurse  with  an  exclamation  that 
aroused  Emily.  The  dim  light  of  the  taper  obscured 
me  from  recognition  until  I  spoke.  I  was  expected 
earlier,  and  reproached  for  my  delay.  Seeing  a  large 
bouquet  on  the  window-sill,  I  remarked  that  she  had 
not  been  entirely  neglected. 

"  That,"  said  she,  "  is  the  joint  offering  of  Jane  and 
Clara.  I  know  you  think  us  girls  a  heartless  set,  as  I 
always  did  until  now.  Had  I  been  a  sister  instead  of 
the  miserable  companion  of  their  shame,  I  could  not 
have  been  shown  more  kindness.  You  can  not  imagine 
how  kind  they  have  all  been  to  me.  Each  anxiously 
waits  her  turn  to  sit  at  my  bedside.  They  do  not  say 
much,  but  from  my  own  heart  I  read  their  thoughts. 
Well,  we  are  outcasts,  and  have  no  one  else  to  think 
of  us ;  why  should  we  not  be  kind  to  each  other  ?  Not 
one  of  my  male  friends  has  inquired  of  me,  much  less 
visited  me.  I  am  rightly  served.  It  is  a  sad  thing, 
though,  to  die  without  being  regretted  by  any  to  whom 
we  have  once  afforded  pleasure." 

In  this  strain  she  continued  to  talk  for  some  time. 
My  injunctions  to  silence  were  disregarded.  She  only 
ceased  when  I  threatened  to  leave  if  she  continued. 
Were  I  to  relate  all  that  she  spoke  of  in  this  interview, 


312  DIARY   OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

tlie  noble  sentiments  to  whicli  she  gave  utterance,  and 
tlie  poetry  slie  a^Dtlj  quoted,  tlie  reader  would  suspect 
that  they  were  creations  of  my  fancy.  While  I  recur  to 
them,  the  scene  and  my  feelings  at  the  time  vividly  rise 
before  my  mind  as  the  shades  traced  by  a  painter  on 
his  favorite  study.  Emily  was  a  girl  of  good  education, 
and  had  been  morally  and  religiously  trained.  She 
was  not  an  exception  in  her  class.  She  necessarily  felt 
the  more  deeply  her  humiliation.  Her  contrition  for 
her  past  life  was  sincere  and  poignant.  She  blamed, 
however,  none  but  herself.  "When  she  spoke  of  the 
home  that  she  had  left,  and  mentioned  the  names  of  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  who  dreamed  not  of  the  sorrowful 
end  of  their  once-attached  Emily,  and  when  she  appeal- 
ed to  God  to  save  them  from  a  like  temptation,  her 
bosom  heaved  convulsively  from  anguish  and  remorse. 
On  the  side  of  her  pillow  I  discovered  a  book,  and 
stretched  my  arm  to  take  it.  She  handed  it  to  me  with 
the  remark,  "  You  may  look  at  it,  and  I  know  you  will 
be  surprised." 

It  was  the  "Catholic  Manual," which  she  had  pro- 
cured from  the  nurse.  I  remarked  "  that  I  was  glad  to 
see  that  her  thoughts  were  so  inclined,  and  hoped  she 
was  benefited  thereby." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "I  have  been  reading  the  prayers 
which  I  once  knew  by  heart.  At  first  I  found  no  con- 
solation in  them.  They  were  a  reproach.  I  thought 
myself  too  wicked ;  but  every  time  I  read  them  I  feel 
more  assured  that  I  may  hope'.  And  why  should  I  not  ? 
Is  my  Maker's  hand  against  me  for  my  weakness?  I 
never  stole  or  wronged  any  one  except  my  poor  parents. 
If  I  can  make  peace  with  my  God — " 

The  sobs  and  tears  that  now  welled  up  from  the  heart 
of  this  penitent  creature  arrested  farther  utterance. 

"  This  is  well,  Emily,"  I  said ;  "  you  have  made  your 
peace  when  j^our  desire  becomes  thus  strong.     Cheer 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  313 

up  and  compose  yourself.  You  are  now  getting  well, 
but  if  you  continue  in  this  indulgence  it  will  be  fatal  to 
you." 

''  I  do  not  wish,  to  recover,"  she  replied,  with  firmness. 
''I  hope  never  to  recover  now.  My  presentiment  is 
strong  that  I  shall  not.  I  feel  happier  with  this  feeling 
than  I  have  for  many  years.  This  book  has  instilled 
into  me  hopes  which  living  might  destroy.  One  thing 
I  desire  above  all  things,  but  I  fear  it  is  impossible.  It 
can  not  be." 

''  It  may  be ;  speak." 

She  looked  imploring  and  anxious,  as  if  her  life  de- 
pended upon  an  af&rmative,  when  she  asked  "  if  I  could 
persuade  a  priest  to  visit  her." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  I  answered. 

''  But  will  he  be  admitted  ?" 

"I  will  see  to  that.  Before  to-morrow  night  I  will 
console  you  with  the  visit  of  one." 

"Without  a  doubt?" 

"  Without  a  doubt,"  I  responded ;  and,  bidding  her  a 
hasty  adieu,  I  left.  In  the  multiplicity  of  cases  visited 
by  me  during  the  epidemic,  my  mind  was  not  seized 
upon  by  any  particular  patient  to  the  exclusion  of  others. 
Each  had  its  periodical  interest  for  me  successively. 
The  present  case  of  fever  was  the  only  one  that  called 
for  my  attention,  and  naturally  enough  engrossed  my 
mind  more  completely.  I  could  not  but  dwell  upon  the 
reflection  that,  while  a  Christian  exhibits  in  his  last  mo- 
ments a  cold  mediocrity,  the  repentant  sinner  rapidly 
passes  between  the  extremes  of  vice  and  virtue,  and  is 
more  enthusiastic  in  expression,  and  more  confident  in 
the  promises  of  a  future  life.  The  heart  possessed  of 
the  most  sinful  thoughts  is  suddenly  vacated  for  its 
purest  joys. 

On  the  following  day  I  called  upon  Father .    The 

devotion  of  this  truly  good  man  to  the  poorest  class  dur- 

O 


314  DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN-. 

ing  the  epidemic  was  unceasing.  He  was  singular  in 
this  respect,  that  he  did  not  wait  to  be  called  upon  when 
he  knew  that  one  of  his  persuasion  was  sick.  Upon  my 
mentioning  the  condition  of  life  in  which  the  patient 
lived,  expecting  an  objection,  his  reply  was,  "  Such  as 
you  speak  of  have  my  readiest  service,  for  truly  do  they 
stand  in  need  of  the  consolations  of  religion,"  a  sentiment 
which  I  shall  ever  treasure  as  an  epitome  of  his  life.  He 
wished  to  accompany  me  at  once.  I  postponed  the  vis- 
it until  after  dark.  As  a  member  of  the  association,  I 
felt  no  reserve  during  the  epidemic  in  walking  into  such 
houses  in  broad  day,  for  my  object  could  not  be  misin- 
terpreted. I  doubt  if  any  of  us  would  be  so  independ- 
ent of  public  opinion  as  to  be  seen  doing  so  at  other 
times.  To  avoid  the  scoffing  of  some  malicious  passer- 
by, I  concluded  to  take  him  at  night. 

This  was  Emily's  fourth  day.  I  learned  that  she  had 
been  regardless  of  the  advice  of  her  physician,  refusing 
to  take  the  potions  prescribed,  and  indulging  immod- 
erately in  other  drinks.  Upon  entering  with  the  priest, 
I  motioned  to  the  nurse  to  leave  the  room. 

''Here,"  said  I  to  Emily,  "is  Father ." 

In  a  tone  tempered  with  deep  feeling,  which  must 
have  throbbed  her  bosom  with  a  holy  sentiment,  he  re- 
marked, "I  hope  you  are  not  very  ill."  I  saw  that  I 
was  one  too  many,  and  left  them  together.  I  waited  in 
the  hall  for  half  an  hour,  when  I  descended  with  Father 

to  the  street.     He  told  me  that  in  all  his  hfe  he  had 

not  heard  such  expressions  of  contrition — had  never  wit- 
nessed such  an  appreciative  sense  of  shame  and  horror 
of  guilty  hours  as  in  her ;  that  her  devotional  complaints 
and  her  prayer  for  mercy  affected  him  beyond  his  wont. 
In  short,  it  was  the  most  signal  triumph  of  latent  virtue 
over  worldly  corruption.  Was  resolution  so  firm  in  her 
that  she  should  never  be  led  or  driven  to  a  relapse  ?  We 
thought  so.     Yet  exposure  to  temptation  was  dangerous 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  315 

in  one  whose  conversion  was  so  rapid,  and  my  unex- 
pressed wish  was  that  she  would  not  survive  her  sick- 
ness. 

On  the  next  morning  she  told  me  of  the  happy  sleep 
she  had  fallen  into ;  that,  in  contemplating  holy  things, 
she  experienced  a  joy  of  innocence  she  had  never  before 
felt.  She  knew  she  had  been  forgiven.  She  only  now 
desired  to  live  long  enough  to  make  her  peace  with  her 
Maker  more  sure.  "  The  life  I  have  led,"  she  continued, 
"  appears  to  me  so  horrible  that  I  dare  not  trust  myself 
to  its  dangers.  I  want  to  die.  I  never  was  happier  in 
my  life  than  now.  It  is  a  pleasant  dream  to  the  awful 
reality  that  is  past,  and  all  this  under  the  sway  of  one 

sin.     I  thank  you  for  the  attendance  of  Father . 

How  unreprovingly  he  received  my  confession !  Ev- 
ery word  of  hope  and  comfort  that  he  uttered  confirmed 
me  that  I  was  not  entirely  lost.  I  told  him  all.  I  told 
him  how  I  was  encouraged — ^yes,  driven  to  my  first 
step.  I  told  him  of  my  flight  from  home  to  conceal  my 
shame  and  lessen  my  father's  mortification.  I  told  him 
of  three  years  of  licentious  pleasures — not  pleasures  even, 
for  they  wanted  the  enjoyment  to  make  them  such.  Oh, 
sir,  could  you  look  into  the  hearts  of  such  as  I  was 
when  we  appear  most  gay,  you  would  see  us  striving  to 
keep  down  remorse  and  shame.  Our  thoughtful  brows 
show  the  intense  workings  of  the  mind.  When  we  are 
cheerful,  the  peal  of  laughter  has  nothing  in  it  of  the 
ring  of  innocent  mirth.  All  our  study  is  to  run  away 
from  ourselves,  to  drown  the  reproving  conscience.  The 
intoxicating  revel  finished,  another  must  be  commenced. 
As  we  hate  ourselves,  we  despise  each  other.  We  know 
that  we  could  be  justly  called  a  name  that  is  the  great- 
est insult  that  could  be  inflicted  upon  us.  We  know 
what  we  are,  but  will  not  permit  it  to  be  told  us.  I  have 
never  seen  one  of  my  companions  die,  nor  do  I  believe 
any  in  the  house  have.    I  hope  my  example  wfll  benefit 


316  DIAEY   OF  A  SAMAKITAN. 

them.  Indeed,  I  think  several  only  want  a  helping  hand 
to  reform  entirety.     I  judge  them  from  myself." 

Having  learned  from  the  nurse  that  the  physician 
would  not  again  call  unless  sent  for,  her  indulgence  in 
conversation  I  did  think  prejudicial  to  her.  Her  fever 
was  subdued,  and  nourishing  drinks  were  ordered  to  be 
administered.  Every  dangerous  symptom  had  been  al- 
layed. Her  soul,  too,  which  had  been  clotted  with  the 
sins  of  sense,  was  now  washed  of  their  baneful  influence 
by  the  tears  of  repentance.  Its  dross  of  indurated  earth- 
liness  had  crumbled  before  the  spirit  of  holiness,  expos- 
ing the  lustrous  diamond-purity  of  sanctiiication  and 
grace,  and  raising  her  from  the  hell  of  burning  passion. 
Her  countenance  glowed  with  a  triumphant  smile,  and 
an  ecstatic  expression  beamed  from  her  eyes. 

I  left,  saying  I  should  not  call  again  unless  sent  for. 

Often  since,  when  I  encountered  any  of  her  frail  sis- 
ters, the  sincerity  of  her  manner — the  truthfulness  of  the 
picture  she  drew  of  them,  arose  before  me.  But  for  the 
sometime  gaudiness  of  attire,  a  stranger  will  not  suspect 
that  the  thoughtful  countenance  he  has  just  passed  was 
of  one  of  these  so-called  "daughters  of  joy." 

On  the  next  morning  I  was  surjorised  to  learn  from 
the  nurse  that  Emily  had  been  very  imprudent,  and  had 
a  dangerous  relapse  of- fever.  She  had  dismissed  the 
nurse  at  midnight,  saying  that  she  would  attend  to  her 
own  wants  from  the  necessary  articles  placed  within  her 
reach.  At  dawn  the  latter  entered  the  room,  and  was 
horror-struck  upon  finding  Emily  on  the  floor  beside  her 
bed.  She  had,  to  all  appearance,  in  her  fall,  dragged 
with  her  some  of  the  bedclothes  and  the  pillow,  on  which 
her  head  then  rested.  A  raging  fever  was  upon  her, 
and  she  gave  no  explanation  to  the  questions  which  were 
put  to  her.  I  went  after  the  physician,  who  repaired 
immediately  to  her.  That  night  she  recognized  my 
voice,  and  called  me  to  her.     She  mumbled  something, 


DIARY  OF  A  SAMARITAN.  817 

and  then  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  the  effort  to  speak  was 
too  great.  A  little  later,  on  expressing  my  surprise  at 
her  imprudence,  she  explained  to  me  that  she  had  sent 
the  nurse  from  the  room  purposely  to  manifest  her  re- 
pentance in  form  as  in  spirit.  As  her  knees  had  not 
bent  to  her  Maker  for  years,  she  thought  her  contrition 
incomplete  without  the  position.  Too  weak  to  stand, 
she  had  gradually  let  down  her  body  to  the  floor ;  she 
had  then  drawn  herself  to  a  chair,  over  which  she  bent 
in  prayer  until  she  felt  a  faintness  come  over  her.  She 
had  scarcely  time  to  pull  to  her  some  of  the  bedclothes 
and  the  pillow  before  she  was  totally  unconscious. 

I  now  beheld  in  full  display  the  fatal  relapse.  The 
pupil  of  her  eye  dilated  and  contracted  alternately ;  a 
jumping  pulse  indicated  its  diminished  strength ;  breath- 
ing was  rapid.  Her  restlessness  called  for  continued 
watching,  while  every  now  and  then  she  gasped  for 
breath  or  ejaculated  an  "ugh!"  To  the  sound  of  her 
name  no  response  was  given.  Her  gaze  was  wandering ; 
small  pieces  of  ice  were  eagerly  swallowed.  Her  tongue 
appeared  paralyzed,  for  she  motioned  with  her  hands,  as 
if  she  wanted  to  speak.  Her  hand  was  held  to  ours  in 
token  of  a  farewell.  She  drew  them  to  her  bosom,  nod- 
ding her  head  in  acknowledgment  of  our  attendance. 
Consciousness  soon  ceased.  Paroxysm  on  paroxysm 
shook  her  frame,  and  while  the  Angelus  was  ringing  at 
the  dead-church,  all  semblance  of  vitality  ceased.  I  re- 
mained aside  until  the  nurse  and  a  servant  had  washed 
her  body  and  dressed  her  cold  limbs  in  clean  linen.  Her 
features  pictured  forth  a  happy  expression.  With  a 
heavy  heart  I  descended  to  the  parlor,  where  her  fright- 
ened companions  were  seated  in  silence.  Tears  were  in 
all  eyes.  How  bitter  was  their  grief  in  comparison  with 
others,  if  we  could  read  their  thoughts  !  Sorrow  for  her 
death  was  made  more  poignant  from  the  anguish  they 
felt  for  their  own  fate  when  the  Destroyer  should  appear 


818  DIAEY  OF  A  SAMAKITAISr. 

for  them.  They  had  arranged  among  themselves  to 
bury  her.  Each  bade  me  an  affectionate  farewell,  and 
thanked  me  from  their  hearts  for  the  simjole  service  I 
had  performed. 

The  open  air  was  a  relief  to  me.  On  the  following 
morning  I  stood  near  by  to  witness  the  cortege  of  her 
weeping  sisterhood,  and  as  it  disappeared  in  the  dis- 
tance my  prayer  arose  that  the  spirit  of  Him  "  who  could 
drive  out  the  seven  devils  of  Mary  Magdalene"  had  so 
purged  her  of  her  seven  senses  that  she  may  awake  to 
immortality  the  embodiment  of  virtue,  and  that  "her 
sins,  which  are  many,  were  forgiven,  for  she  loved 
much."  Who  dares  to  say  that  a  thousand  liveried  an- 
gels do  not  attend  the  awakening  spirit  of  one  whose 
sincere  repentance  was  as  "bitter  as  wormwood,"  and 
whose  life  and  death  so  forcibly  illustrated  the  truth  of 
the  proverb,  Une  tonne  renommee  vaut  mieux  quhine  cein- 
ture  doree  ? 

Here,  for  the  present,  I  arrest  my  pen.  Materials  for 
yet  more  interesting  recitals  fill  my  diary  for  1858, 
which,  if  encouragement  invites  and  leisure  permits,  may 
be  shortly  forthcoming  in  another  volume. 


APPEI^DIX. 


REPORT 


OP 


THE  HOWARD  ASSOCIATION 

OF  ]^EW  OKLEANS. 

EPIDEMIC   OF   1858. 


APPENDIX 


EPIDEMIC  OF  1858. 

Office  of  the  Howard  Association  of  New  Orleans.  > 
New  Orleans,  20th  November,  1S5S.  / 

The  following  exhibits  the  transactions  of  the  Association  during  the 
late  epidemic  of  yellow  fever  in  this  city,  as  reported  by  the  undersigned, 
who  were  specially  appointed  to  prepare  the  same  for  publication. 

CASES  OP  YELLOW  FEVER. 

Natives  of  Ireland 1485 

'^         France 259 

"         Scotland 12 

'"•         Italy 59 

''         Norway 7 

"         Portugal 3 


Natives  of  United  States 

....     409 

" 

Germany 

....  1069 

Cl 

England 

....       69 

u 

Switzerland 

10 

11 

Sweden 

6 

CI 

Denmark 

....       10 

«( 

Poland 

6 

(I 

West  Indies 

1 

(I 

Belgium 

....        1 

It, 

3 

15S4 

Holland . 
Canada  . 


1 

1830 
1584 

*3414 

Died 771 

Discharge  J  cured 2643 

Total  cases 3414 

E.  F.  ScHsnDT,  President. 
D.  I.  KicAKDO,  Secretary. 

Treasurer'^s  Report. 

ASSETS. 

Cash  balance  on  June  1, 1853 $  4,774.8T 

Contributions  acknowledged  in  daily  papers 10,422.33 

Obligations  of  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  Association $31,000.00 

Less  amount  paid  to  negotiate  the  same 932.67     30,067.33 

Total $45,264. 53 

DISBURSEMENTS. 

Paid  physicians $  4,865.00 

Paid  apothecaries  and  cuppers 10,498. 16 

Paid  Maison  de  Santo  and  Touro  Infinnary 6,130.50 

Paid  general  relief — cash  to  our  convalescents  and  to  the  des- 
titute applicants  at  the  office;  also  for  the  weekly  board  of 
convalescents  discharged  from  Charity  Hospital,  and  for  ex- 
pense of  sending  destitute  ones  to  their  friends 8,007.15 

Carried  forward $29,500.81 

*  The  number  of  patients  are  exclusively  the  sick  of  yellow  fever  attended  to.  From 
motives  which  the  recipients  of  our  charities  will  appreciate,  we  have  not  recorded  the 
names  of  the  destitute  who  have  applied  to  us  for  sustenance;  the  number  thus  re- 
lieved are  several  hundred. 

02 


322  APPEXDIX. 

Brought  forward $29,500.81 

Paid  expense  account — rent  of  office,  stationery,  etc 720.00 

Paid  groceries — supplies  furnished  for  the  support  of  the  fami- 
lies of  the  sick 3,369.31 

Paid  nurses 7,885.70 

Paid  printing — advertising,  cards,  etc 880.31 

Paid  cabs  for  the  use  of  our  physicians  and  members,  and  for 

the  conveyance  of  .sick  to  hospitals 1,033.25 

Paid  cemeteries 1,200.00 

Balance,  cash  on  hand 670.09 

$45,264.53 

November  2,  To  balance  cash $    670.09 

To  investments  secured  by  mortgage 1,250.00 

Total  assets  this  day $1,920.09 

John  Livingston,  \ 

J.  J.  Bro-vra,  >  Finance  Committee. 

Henry  Bier,        )  Wm.  L.  Robinson,  Treasurer, 

The  Howard  Association  presents  here\\'ith  the  result  of  its  operations 
during  the  prevalence  of  the  epidemic  of  this  year.  It  assumed,  on  the 
llth  of  August,  the  responsibility  of  declaring  the  yellow  fever  epidemic, 
and  on  the  1st  of  November  of  announcing  that  it  had  ceased  to  be  epi- 
demic. It  commenced  with  a  fund  considered  adequate  to  give  relief  to 
all  the  destitute  sick,  and  which  would  have  answered  the  purpose,  had 
the  epidemic  continued  only  its  usual  length  of  time.  Its  extraordinary 
duration  compelled  it  to  appeal  to  the  citizens  for  voluntary  cont-  ibutions. 
It  acted  upon  the  principle  that  ^^ Charity  should  begin  at  /io?;.c,"  and  it 
sent  forth  no  circulars,  public  or  private.  It  made  no  appeals  to  foreign 
aid.  It  discountenanced  every  attempt  to  accumulate  a  fund  whicli 
might  not  be  wanted  during  the  present  season.  But  when  it  found  that 
assistance  would  be  required,  it  appealed  to  its  own  citizens,  and  the  ap- 
peal was  promptly  responded  to  without  personal  solicitation ;  and  when 
enough  was  sent  in  that  appeal  was  withdrawn. 

It  has,  it  is  believed,  fulfilled  its  mission.  Three  thousand  four  hund- 
red and  fourteen  cases  of  yellow  fever  have  been  treated,  with  a  result, 
considering  the  malignant  type  of  the  fever,  very  gratifying— the  deaths 
averaging  about  twenty-two  per  cent.  Those  cases,  it  must  be  recollect- 
ed, were  among  the  destitute  alone — those  who  were  outside  of  public  or 
private  charity,  and  who  were  not  connected  with  the  various  charitable 
institutions.  They  were  treated  under  every  disadvantage,  in  hovels 
and  rooms  without  comforts  or  conveniences,  and  many  only  administer- 
ed to  after  the  fever  had  gained  a  firai  hold  upon  its  victim. 

Besides  these,  the  Association  gave  relief  to  several  hundred  convales- 
cents— those  discharged  from  the  hospitals,  and  those  suffering  from 
want.  The  average  expenditure  is  about  eleven  dollars  for  each  person 
treated  and  relieved. 

It  is  most  gratifying  to  the  Association  to  know  that  its  warmest 
friends  are  among  its  ov>Ti  citizens ;  in  the  place  where  it  was  first  organ- 
ized ;  where  it  has  labored,  and  where  it  intends  to  labor  while  it  has 
supporters  at  home. 


APPENDIX. 


823 


Abroad,  the  Association  has  the  honor  to  acknowledge  that  it  has  nu- 
merous friends  ;  that  offers  were  made  to  collect  funds,  and  that  funds, 
equal  to  any  emergency,  could  have  been  collected,  if  even  an  intimation 
had  been  given  that  funds  would  be  wanted.  To  those  non-resident 
friends  it  returns  its  sincerest  thanks,  and  it  hopes  that  no  future  epi- 
demic will  ever  appear  in  our  city  in  so  aggravated  a  form  as  to  tax 
their  benevolence  ;  but  should  such  a  calamity  come,  it  will  then  unhes- 
itatingly appeal  to  them,  with  a  firm  conviction  that  its  appeal  will  not 
be  made  in  vain.  It  hopes  that  its  services  may  never  be  wanted  in  the 
future,  but  it  will  keep  up  its  organization,  and  will  be  ever  ready  to  act 
its  part. 

List  of  active  3Iemhers. 


E.  F.  Schmidt, 
D.  I.  Ricardo, 
C.  H.  Nobles, 
J.  F.  Caldwell, 
H.  H.  Dentzel, 
H.  Bier, 
G.  W.  Shaw, 
John  Livingston, 

F.  Moreno,  jr., 
H.  St.  Paul, 
J.  M.  VandtrgrifF, 
E.  L.  Robertson, 
A.  J.  VandergrifF, 
J.  J.  Brown, 
A.  Duquercron, 
J.  Willis, 
W.  L.  Robinson. 

Joseph  W.  Allen,  of  Mississipf 
E.  H.  Wailes,  of  New  Albany 
A  Lady                  

CONTRIB 

)i...  $50.00  1 

50.00  1 

. .    . .       5  00  ' 

UTIONS. 

Twitchell,  on  part  of  visitors  at 
Dr.  Tegarden'.=,  Mississippi  City. 

Anonymous,  to  "•  Dear  Bill" 

Payne  &  Harrison 

'  $50.00 
20.00 
100  00 

John  Watt 

100.00 

A  Lady  of  St.  James 

25.00 

Fellows  &  Co. 

100  00 

Fort  Hamilton  Relief  Society, : 

N.  Y.  433.23 

50.00 

50.00 

10  00 

Phillips,  Nixon  <b  Co 

100  00 

H.  O.  Colombe,  of  St.  James  . 

J.  B.  Murri.'ion  &  Co 

100  00 

B.  Stuart,  of  Fayette,  Miss. . . 

'Cuthbert  Slocomb 

50.00 

Michael  O'Brien 

;  J.  D.  Denegre 

1  Officers  of  the  Citizens'  Bank 

.Union  Street,  No.  2 

Peschier  &  Forstall 

100.00 
100  00 

Paul  Tulane 

50.00 

T.  &  Co 

.  100  00 

25  00 

T.  Mallard  &  Co 

50.00 

50  00 

Ruliff&Co 

50.00 

A  Friend,  Atty.  D         ..,.....'.. 

30  00 

J.  Felt,  of  Boston 

10.00 

s.  &  C 

25  00 

R.S 

20.00 

50  00 

J.  F.  Rub 

25.00 

John  Watt  &  Co 

Slark,  Stauffer  &  Co 

100  00 

Lewis  &  Oglesby 

.   . . .     25  00 

Cash,  A.N.  O 

Bradley,  Wilson  &  Co 

15  00 

Edmund  Goldman 

25.00 

50  00 

Ilerwitt,  Norton  &  Co 

100.00  1 

J.  W.  J. .    . . 

2  00 

W.  &  D.  Urquhart 

50.00  1 

100.00  I 

E.  B 

20  00 

A  Friend 

N.  N 

10  00 

W.  E.  Stark 

Hughes,  Hyllestedt  <fc  Co.  . . . 

50.00 

100.00 

25.00 

Buckner,  Stanton  &  Newman 

Rugely,  Blair  &  Co. 

150.00 
100  00 

Watt  &  Noble 

100  00 

Cotton  Factor             

50  00 

T.  M'Cluskey 

Chas.  A.  Ilensler 

Officers  Branch  La.  State  Bank  . . . 
A.  &  M.  Heine 

20.00 
50.00 
60  00 

Capt.  Geo.  Kirk 

Hewitt,  Murphy  &  Co. 

10.00 

50  00 

W.  H.  Letchford  &  Co 

50.00 

100  00 

F.  W.  Coeler 

25.00 

L.  Spangenberg  

Thos.  Murray 

Luskins 

'Mrs.  Turner,  109  Canal  Street  . . . . 

100  00 

30.00 

5.00 

25.00 

B.  O'Connell 

.     20  00 

Misses  Jane   M'Cerran  and 

Jane             i 

324 


APPENDIX. 


D.  M $5.00 

Peet,  Simms  &  Co 50.00 

Palfrey  &  Co 30.00 

S.  O.  Nelson  &;  Co 5U.00 

Check  No.  124 25.00 

CheckNo.  123 25.00 

Check  No.  1399 25.00 

G.  N.  M.  &  Co 25.00 

County  Cork 2.00 

Place  &  Brennan 25.00 

Edward  Davis 50.00 

Geo.  W.  Parker 50.00 

P.  &  E.  ReiUy 50.00 

Wright,  Allen  &  Co. 100.00 

^^L  J.  Bujac 50.00 

Spalding  <fe  Rogers 50.00 

D.  Bid^veU 25.00 

D 10.00 

Proctor's  "  Woods  House" 125.00 

Thompson  &,  Barnes 25.00 

A.  L 50.00 

R.  Geddes 50.00 

Knoxville,  "  A  Mite" 1.00 

W.  Chambers 25.00 

Bo^TOian  (fc  De  Lee 20.00 

C.  B.  Payne 50.00 

John  Stroud  &:  Co 50.00 

Oakford  <fc  Ferriday 25.00  I 

Freret  Brothers 50.00 

J.  &  J.  C.  Davidson 50.00 

John  M.  ChUton 25.00  | 

Richard  Aldige  <fe  Co 50.00  1 

A.  A.  Nevins  <fe  Co 50.00 

C.  S.,  Cotton  Factor 100.00 

B.  Piflfet  <fc  Sons 50.00 

Frank  Piffet 20.00  ' 

Employes  of  Piffet  <fe  Sons 10.00  [ 

Gillis,  Ferguson  <fc  Co 50.00  1 

H.  J.  Ranney 50.00  i 

Webfoot 5.00  ! 

Clason&Co 100.00 

West,  Renshaw  &  Cammack 100.00 

In  a  drop-letter 25.00  | 

Bogart,  Foley  &  Avery 100.00  | 

Coleman,  Britton  &  Withers 100.00  , 

Augustin  <fc  Thibaut 50.00  i 

Warren,  Gilmore  &  Co 50,00  i 

A  Friend 50.00  j 

German  Volksfest  Committee 500.00 

Miller's  Billiard  Saloon 32.00 

Chas.  E.  Leverich 25.00 

Queyrouse  &  Langsdorflf 50.00 

Mrs.  Samuel  J.  Peters 50.00  i 

Samuel  J.  Peters,  jr 25.00 

Frank  Peters 25.00 

Penn  &  Shortridge 50.00  I 

Samuel  Nicholson  &  Co 100.00 

C.  G.  Gaines  <fc  Co 50.00  ■ 

J.  D.  Lang 10.00 

M.  N 25.00 

Bellocri,  Noblom  &  Co 125.00  j 

Le  Ronde  &  Co 20.00  | 

Check  No.  169 50.00  ; 

Mrs.  T.  B.  Heim,  from  the  Ladies  | 

at  Pass  Christian 170.00  l 

H.  M.  Bass ett 10.00  i 

Judge  R.  11.  Dennis 10.00 

T.  B.  Heim 10.00  I 


Carroll,  Holmes  &  Co $50.00 

Samuel  M'Cutcheon,  St.  Charles. . .  25.00 

C.  N.  Pasteur  &  Co 25.00 

Cash,  Pascagoula,  through  W.  Hyl- 

lestedt 169.00 

Employes  of  Turpin's  Confectionery    30.10 
Officers  of  the  Louisiana  State  Bank  100.00 

S.  S.  Littlefield 20  00 

Voigts,  Jenrenaud  &  Co 50.00 

H.  Lee,  grocery  bill, 10.60 

A.  Dubuc 25.00 

O.  Talamon  &  Dessoumes 50.00 

C.  M 10.00 

Menard  &;  Vigneaud 50.00 

G.  M.  Bailey  &  Co 50.00 

Stanley  &  Wright 50.00 

S.,  Pass  Christian 5.00 

"•  Widow's  Mite,"  Pass  Christian. .  1.00 

J.  L.  Gubernator 25.00 

G.  W.  Dunbar  &  Co 50.00 

T.  F.  Murray  (pr'ds  rec'pts  26  Oct.)  44.00 

ToTvnsend,  Tompkins  &  Co.  ...'...  50.00 

C.  A.  Townsend,  New  York 50.00 

Moore  and  Simmons 50.00 

Chas.  M'Guire,  New  York 25.00 

Mary,  Bella,  and  Florence 10.00 

J.  Y.  deEgana 100.00 

]\L  Weber 10.00 

Abat,  Generes  &  Co 100.00 

Gothschalk  &  Magner 25.00 

Anonymous,  per  steamer  Capitol. .  15.00 

Metropolitan  Club 4(i.00 

M.  W.  B.  <fc  Co.,  Philadelphia ....  250.00 

Dr.  E.  Borland 25.00 

H 20.00 

Blache  &  Leaumont 50.00 

Joachim  Kohn 50.00 

Check  No.  270 25.00 

Dr.  G.  W.  CampbeU 50.00 

H.  T.,  Bay  St.  Louis 10.00 

Miss  S.  S.  Hull 50.00 

Rives,  Battles  &  Noble 50.00 

Unknown  Friends,  thro'  the  Mayor  150.00 

P.  Mallard 10.00 

J.  H.,  3d  District 2  GO 

Brand  &,  Landry 50.00 

Jules  Belly  (Treasurer  Classic  Mu- 
sic Society) 50.00 

Farley,  Juiy  (fc  Co. 75. 00 

B.  DeBar 100.00 

The  Groves  of  Blarney 25. 00 

Donations  left  at  True  Delta  Office  6.50 

A  Friend 25.00 

J.  R.,  Port  Hudson 20.00 

Eliza  M'Grall 10.00 

Dramatic  Association 30.45 

J.  J.  Roman  and  others,  Tibodeaux- 

ville 90.00 

J.  C.  Kline,  St.  Joseph,  La 50.00 

Citizens   of  Montgomery,  through 

Farlev,  Jury  &  Co 350.35 

W.  P.  Converse  &  Co.,  New  York.  100.00 

E.  R.  Stevens  d:  Co 50.00 

R.  W.  Montgomeiy,  New  York  . . .  100. 00 

Drop  Letter 50 

GasCo.'sbiU 22.05 

W.  (fe  D.  Urquhart,  for 100.00 

George  Bamsleny,  Liverpool 24.70 


^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


AUG  2  2  I960 

AUG  2  2  HEDE 

APR  mm 

MAY  2  1  1962 

JON  6     't^^*; 

JUN6    RECD 


ij  i- 


.1 

BI(iMED:tIB, 
4N(  13  1971 


DISCHARGE-URL  2  Jnks  fwm  RrcF- 
BIOMED  LIB.     N(|^'^-A- 

DEC    IRECB 
BIOMED    MAR  2  3 '81 
8'OMeo  Lf8; 

'^iS^  m 

JUL  03  1987 

RECD 


Form 


I^|:^>6-9i5^(B4283s4 )  444 


199? 

RECEIVED 

JUH  2  4  1992 


JhU% 


it  6 


3   1158  00694  2253 


AVlOSANCElfj 


%        .4" 


Jx-\ 


-TLJ 


&<r 


